Mags' War, Part 4
by thankyoufinnick
Summary: Hunted by the Capitol, unable to fight back with a weapon, Annie Cresta has to find a way of making her own contributions to the rebellion. Fortunately, she has plenty of help.
1. Chapter 1

I promise this is the only chapter that's OC-centric. The rest of Part 4 is entirely Annie with Finnick and Cashmere.

* * *

Mags and Finnick wait in the Justice Building.

On her way out, Annie cries, loudly and showily. She and Donn use this excuse to leave the stage early. They head for the Victors' Village.

Ever so casually, Rudder ambles around on stage while he waits. He pauses in front of Brine. "Ready?"

"For?" Brine snorts. "Finnick to win another Hunger Games? I didn't think he could get any more insufferable. Why do you ask?"

Rudder raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. He edges another step or two closer to the microphone.

Finnick and Mags are escorted onto the train, Finnick holding Mags' elbow solicitously. He casts a mischievous look at the nearest gun pointed at him, winks at the helmeted face he can't see. "Let's get this show on the road." He doesn't look back.

The hoots of the train signal the tributes' departure. The Peacekeepers rest their guns on their shoulders, and the crowd starts to disperse.

Speaking into the microphone, Rudder asks those who have ties to Mags to remain, as a sort of vigil, until the train is out of earshot. Octavius, who was wheeling himself toward the ramp, stops.

In the front, the waiting men and women shift unconsciously from foot to foot. They've been instructed to wait until the word is given, but they chafe for action. Putting in time at the academy may get you food, but it does nothing for your hungry family. It only puts into your head the idea that you're the equal of any Peacekeeper you meet, in a fair fight. If only the fight were fair.

Surreptitiously, these Careers eye the nether regions of the stage, where the hidden stockpile of weapons lies.

The fight is about to become fair.

In the middle of the crowd, Sander Reel, once Sander Odair, and his wife Virginia Reel, curl their lips in disgust. Rudder's request is obviously code for the academy Mags indoctrinated all these years, the one that lured away their son. Wanting nothing to do with this vigil, they start looking for a hasty exit. But with Virginia's crutches, it's tricky to navigate in the crowd, and so they're still in the forum when the first shot is fired.

Pearleye is not. Standing in the very back, she slipped off the first moment the Peacekeepers' attention was distracted. Throughout the district, her followers are doing the same.

When the sharp reports of gunfire begin, she's already speeding away in a car, racing toward her new headquarters. One advantage of doing this today is that everyone is gathered into one of the reaping locations, and the key rebels have been able to get to their destinations without hindrance.

Now they're bringing down outbound communications all through the district, while they divert inbound communications so Pearleye can make her announcement.

Seating herself at her desk, she feels the weight of responsibility settling in on her shoulders, there to stay.

Her fingers flip through the cards in front of her, as she seeks calm. Her assistants scurry around her, taking their places and pressing "on" switches. When she next opens her mouth, District Four will no longer be part of Panem.

Pearleye raises her head and looks straight ahead. "Camera."

* * *

"About time!" Virginia shouts when Mayor Pearleye's face fades from the television. Throughout the district, the same and similar cries are going up.

"A declaration of war? And secession?" Sander stares in shock at his wife, while the whole family speaks at once.

"Did I hear right—we have a new government? With an old mayor in charge and a council with the power to depose her if she turns into another tyrant?" Cora grabs her sister by the arm. The family's gathered at Cora's place, the nearest to the reaping forum since Sander and Virginia moved away ten years ago to start a new life, where no one could link them to their infamous son.

"And the Career academy's been a militia this whole time?" That's Buck, Cora's grown son, the only one of the family to have put in any time at all at the academy, and that not much. "I had no idea."

No one did. Once Finnick came along, the academy was a banned topic. Like Finnick himself, since the day Sander ceased to be an Odair.

"So we've got a military." Sander thinks out loud. "Maybe we've got a chance."

"Those shelters the mayor mentioned digging," Buck says, hesitantly. "That means..." He doesn't want to finish his sentence.

Sander and Virginia have to nod, reluctantly. "Bombs."

"Are they sure we can do this?" Cora wonders. "I'm all for it, of course," she says quickly, and unneccessarily, "but remember last time?

"And I didn't find that speech very inspiring," Virginia seconds her sister's doubts. "Pretty flat—are they going to be able to get enough support from the young crowd?"

"I thought it was great," Sander defends. "No, it wasn't electrifying, but it didn't sound like the hotheads were in charge this time. I want to know that level-headed people decided this, and boring people have made the plans."

"Besides," Buck says sarcastically, "inspiring young speechmaker who gets the young crowd riled up is busy right now, on a train getting his manicure done."

Then he glances quickly at Virginia and Sander, to see if that kind of remark is allowed now, or if the ten-year ban is still in force. Buck, only a few months older than his cousin and growing up in the same apartment, took Finnick's defection hard.

Silently, Sander exchanges a look with his wife, and they let it slide.

"And what about the other districts?" Virginia adds, after a minute. "Is District Four going to stand alone?"

"Four," Cora corrects her sister, "we're not allowed to say 'district' any more."

"Of course." Virginia shakes herself. "That's going to take some getting used to."

"We'd better hope everyone does everything they can," Sander says. It's what he's wanted all his life, but he wasn't expecting it to come now, here, like this. "For us, I guess that means shelter digging. We need to go, dig as much as we can before the bombers come." It's all happening too fast to process.

"Not me," Buck contradicts. "The mayor said everyone who attended the academy should report for militia duty." He stands up, ready to report.

"They meant the ones who had weapons training!" his mother cries. "Not you!"

"All you did was learn what plants not to eat," Virginia adds. "You were only there for a few weeks. It's not like you're a Career!"

"And if that's what they tell me, then I'll see you at the shelters," Buck answers. "But I'm going to report in first and find out. And I think 'Career' is going to have to stop being a dirty word, if they're the ones who are going to save us all."

Another moment of silence while they contemplate how the only Career in the district who'd rather win two Hunger Games than fight back is related to them.

"And what about me?" Virginia looks down at her braces, her crutches. "I can't dig."

"You'll find something," Cora encourages her.

Sander wants to say something encouraging too, but she just made him realize that they're not going to be together.

First bombers, then Buck associating with Careers, now Virginia going her separate way. Sander wants the Capitol lying in its own ashes, but he wonders what the cost of victory will be.

* * *

"Rudder, Rudder!" It's Felix, Donn's twelve-year-old grandson, sprinting down the street to meet Rudder. "Grampa says you gotta come quickly! The Village is under attack!"

Under attack? There's an old married couple, a couple of grandkids, and the mad girl. Everyone else is off at war. Why would the enemy care about the Village? Rudder's just on his way there to do his nightly briefing with Donn—trade an update on the Games for an update on the war.

But because it's Donn, Rudder starts to sprint. He only has the opportunity to commandeer the aid of two soldiers on the way.

Even just past midnight, the streets are crowded, chaotic, full of shouting. The commotion grows as Rudder nears the Village. Donn's right: something is happening. Rudder's neck prickles.

"One at each gate," he orders when they reach the Village, then heads straight for Annie's house himself. Donn and Felix have been staying with her while the Games are on.

"Finnick disappeared from the arena, they're coming for Annie as a hostage to get him back, we need to get her out of here," Donn gasps out, all in one breath.

Rudder wants to demand how Donn knows all this, but he hears the first shot of gunfire and knows there's no time. The Peacekeepers are here.

"Tell her to come. I'll take her."

Donn shakes his head, frantic, almost panicked. "She took a bunch of sedatives after the jabb—there's no time to explain. She's out. I can't wake her. I can't move her, not with my back."

In his head, Rudder silently curses, then sets emotion aside. They'll have to evacuate her, then.

"If you and Foam can hold the gates," Rudder tells Donn, "I can get her out over the side."

"Of course you can," Donn says with a ghost of an admiring smile. "We'll do it. Go. Take her south." Then, as Rudder's speeding past him, he makes a gesture with three of his fingers that Rudder doesn't grasp, but there's no time to go back and ask.

Annie doesn't wake, only moans a bit, when Rudder shakes her none too gently. Without a second to waste, he hoists her over his shoulder. He barely registers the texture of fur under his hands as he secures her with the length of rope he always carries on him.

The machine gun fire is getting closer. He can hear Donn shouting. Front door, or window?

Making a snap decision, Rudder hauls her out the second floor window and down the trellis Annie built for just this purpose.

He can't hear Donn any more, but the Peacekeepers are inside the house. Rudder's one house away from the Village wall, but he can't take the straight route, because he needs to stay out of sight.

Sprinting past an empty house, keeping his head as low as he can and still run, Rudder hears a Peacekeeper coming up behind. Whipping around the corner, he ducks as fast as he can, but not fast enough.

"Freeze!"

Another Peacekeeper is coming up the narrow space between the two houses. The only way out for Rudder from here is straight ahead, through the line of fire.

They need her alive, Rudder remembers.

He goes for it.

Just as he's half a step past the danger zone, his eardrums almost implode from the fire close at hand. He keeps going.

He has no choice. He heads for the only escape route he has, a path carved decades ago into the Village wall, made to look like weathering. He trained for it on an exact replica at the academy. He can scale it in his sleep. Annie's no heavier than many a pack he's carried.

It's just a question of whether he has the time.

Rudder starts climbing. Every second turns into an hour. He isn't challenged. The fire close at hand has stopped. Someone had his back.

Then he's over and down, thankful for the darkness as he races away from the Village.

Now what? Who has an indoor root cellar who can be trusted? They're not common, but families that can afford to stockpile food in Four do. The inner circle, the ones who know the war's coming, have been encouraging this behavior.

The sky lights up behind Rudder, and he pushes himself even harder. He hasn't heard any explosions, so it must be fire. Maybe they're trying to smoke Annie out.

Octavius' nephew Nestor answers his door, his wife Mell at his side. Hobbled by arthritis, he's not in the fighting, and she's in charge of organizing the neighborhood watch.

"Rudder!"

Rudder begins untying the knots around Annie's back even as he steps inside. She's still unconscious. "Don't say my name, or hers," he warns. Outbound communications are supposedly jammed in Four, but he's not gambling any more on that than he has to. "I need a place to hide her. The Capitol is hunting her."

Mell's already moving to the root cellar. "We can drag the couch over it once she's in."

"Do you have pencil and paper?" Rudder asks.

Nestor blinks, then scrounges them up. Mell is in the back of the house unlocking the cellar door.

Rudder scribbles for a second, then shows it to Nestor. His lips move while he squints at the paper in the lamplight. _Code name Sandpiper._

"Got it?" Rudder asks, and then he destroys the paper. "I'll send someone as soon I have a way out for her. Don't trust anyone asking for her by any other name."

Mell helps Rudder lower Annie through the trap door and into the cellar next to the potatoes and turnips. "We'll keep her safe."

With that assurance, Rudder has to be content. He has too many responsibilities. Tonight, Four is scheduled to try to seize the naval ships off the coast. He's not directly involved in that effort, but he's been moving troops to the shore, to be prepared for the fallout come morning, whatever the outcome.

But now he has to divert some of them to deal with the Peacekeepers that are now suddenly in the city. The rebels had mostly managed to push the fighting to the outskirts and are now trying to secure the borders, but they don't have enough control to prevent sudden focused incursions like this.

And as soon as he's done all of that, he needs to figure out what to do with Sandpiper.

* * *

Grace's back and arms ache and ache. Instead of gutting fish, since the war started she's been relocating crates of fish, stockpiling them somewhere more secure. Diver and the boys are home from digging bunkers. The kids are only four and five, too young for heavy-duty digging, but they help carry buckets of dirt, fetch supplies, and pitch in wherever a hand is needed.

Tonight, the whole family is hunkered down inside the house, trying to ignore the sounds of shouting and shooting from outside that are all too common these days. It's been a week, and Diver reports that they just barely have the first underground shelters ready for emergencies. Not enough room to hold the whole population, and the Peacekeepers haven't wholly been driven out.

The fact that they've been mostly driven back is shocking enough. They had absolute power for so long, and now there's a citizen militia patrolling the streets instead?

Determined to shut out the terrifying noises, Grace and Diver cuddle the boys in bed between them with reassurances, and tighten the pillows around their ears.

An earth-shattering crash wakes them from a sound sleep. Blinding light fills the house.

"Where is Annie Cresta?" a harsh voice demands.

Grace blinks as she tries to sort out a cacophony of sensory impressions. Donny shaking on her lap. A helmeted Peacekeeper who just knocked down the door. Diver, always slow to wake, disoriented in bed behind her.

"Where is Annie Cresta!" Three Peacekeepers spill in behind the first as reinforcements. They start shining their lights into dark corners and upending the furniture, while the first advances on the bed.

Grace swallows, trying to get saliva into her mouth. "I don't know," she croaks. Miles is crying, and Diver's shushing him.

"Is she here?" This Peacekeeper seems to have only one mode of communication, and that's shouting.

Together, Grace and Diver shake their heads. "No. No."

"Where would she go to hide?"

Grace can't take her eyes off the barrel of his gun. "She never leaves the house. If she's not there, I don't know where she would be."

"I don't believe you. She's been seen visiting you."

Her throat is dry. "Only once or twice, a long time ago. I don't know where she is."

"Get off the bed." The Peacekeeper jerks his weapon commandingly, and all four of them scramble off instantly.

They stand with their backs pressed to the wall, Grace holding Donny, and Diver Miles, while the Peacekeepers drag the bed away. The only thing under it is a wooden train.

Annie carved it.

The nearest Peacekeeper tosses it to one of his compatriots near the door. Miles starts to sob and reach for it, but Diver holds him tighter, and just says, "Sssh, sssh, sssh," over and over again, like his sanity depends on it.

The train goes out the door with the rest of their belongings. Then the bed. The house is bare now, and the Peacekeepers are checking for hidden compartments in the walls and especially the floor.

One of them comes out of the tiny room that contains only a toilet. "Nothing. You couldn't hide a cat in here."

Grace has recovered enough to experience relief that she doesn't know where her sister is, and a smidgen of guilt at the fear that they may kill her because she doesn't know.

The fear spikes when one of the Peacekeepers seizes her by the arm. "You're coming in for questioning. The rest of you stay here."

Looking into Diver's eyes, gone suddenly wide, makes it even harder to be brave. "I'll be back," she promises in the steadiest voice she can command. Diver has to hold onto the kids to keep them from running after her. "Mommy will be back."

 _They're just going to ask you some questions,_ Grace tells herself as she leaves the house. _They'll figure out you don't know anything. They have lie detectors._

This will all be over soon. Maybe she'll even wake up. The sounds of the fighting outside must be giving her nightmares.

She and her captor don't get far before they're confronted by three armed soldiers shining lights in their faces.

"Where are you taking that woman?" the woman in charge demands.

Grace and her captor peer at the uniforms in the moonlight. Blue.

He tenses. "None of your business."

Grace tries to wrench out of his grasp and run past the line of militia to safety, but even flinching at the sudden light, he keeps his grip on her.

"That's Grace Marshall," one of the men says. "Annie Cresta's sister." Grace doesn't recognize his voice in the dark, and she doesn't know whether to thank him or hate him for identifying her.

"Ah." The woman in charge again. "Then we'll take her."

Acting quickly, the Peacekeeper shoves Grace in front of him.

"Nope," she says confidently. "If we shoot you both, then you're dead and you never learn anything from her. If you let her go, you don't learn anything, but at least you're not dead."

Grace can guess the Peacekeeper is cursing himself for leaving his backups at her house. Now he can find out what it's like to be outnumbered. She just hopes the other woman is bluffing.

"Now come on," she says. "The odds aren't in your favor today."

"You know it's only a matter of time before we find her," he says with bravado.

"That's as may be, but you'll let this one go, and we'll let you go. I'll give you until the count of five to think about it."

On the count of four, his hold slackens enough for Grace to make her mad dash forward. The line of soldiers closes around her, and she doubles over, gasping and trying not to cry.

"Are you okay?" One of the militiamen, who's been silent until now, comes around to speak to her, but doesn't touch her. "Can you get home? Do you have a home to go to?"

"I hope so," Grace chokes. "Is she okay? Do you know?"

"We don't know." Grace knows this voice by now. This woman's in charge and knows what she's doing. "But they don't seem to have her. Let's get you home. My name's Elspa, by the way."

Surrounded by her own people, still surprised and hugely relieved to see them uniformed and armed, Grace starts toward home again.

"There were three Peacekeepers there," Grace remembers as they walk back down the street. A few curious faces peek out the windows at them, but it's the middle of the night. Everyone's either working or sleeping. "In our house."

"How many civilians?"

"Also three. My husband and our two boys."

"We'll try to handle this without stray fire, then."

Grace answers several questions about the layout as they go. "I wish I'd been braver," she finally concludes. _Can you imagine doing this alone, for days on end, with everyone out to kill you? No militia to save you, your district partner beheaded in front of you?_

"Not to worry," the woman assures her. "Someone alerted us that there were Peacekeepers in the neighborhood, so we came expecting trouble. They've been looking for Annie since midnight."

Grace hides on the porch of one of her neighbors, one she knows is away from home on military duty, while her rescuers make enough noise to draw off first one and then another guard from her house. She marvels at the efficiency.

 _If we'd had training, Diver and I could have done something. Maybe everyone should get training. Maybe Annie wouldn't have been so devastated in the arena._

Or maybe she would have; Annie told Grace that Octavius came back in pretty bad shape and never really recovered. But it might have made a difference.

Once she has the all-clear, Grace goes running into her house. She's met by her family running back. Donny throws his arms around her leg.

"The Peacekeepers posted a guard at the door," Diver explains, hugging her tight. "But not the back window. I had Miles sneak out and go to Elmo's for help, while the Peacekeepers were making a bonfire. They've got a phone. I guess they got the word out pretty fast."

"They burned up my new shoes!" Donny tells her, outraged. The house is totally empty, no bed, no blankets, no food, no clothes, nothing.

"It's okay," Grace says. "We have our lives. It's okay. Where's Miles?"

"I told him to stay there, where he'd be safe," Diver says.

"We need to find him!" Grace tugs on her husband's arm. "Let's go!"

She's never been so grateful for anything as to find her son scared, but safe and sound, where he's supposed to be.

Then her highest priority is getting over to her parents' apartment, making sure the family is safe, finding out what happened to them.

Their apartment, when Grace arrives, is as bare as the house she left behind.

"They wanted to take your mother for questioning," her father explains, looking shaken. "But she talked them out of it."

"I told them if I knew anything, I'd tell them," her mother hisses. "That girl's been nothing but trouble to this family since the beginning."

Grace flinches and tries to focus on getting her children settled to distract her from the complaining voice. _Please be safe, Annie. Please._

* * *

Grace jumps awake in bed for the second time in the night, arms flailing and head spinning. "Who-what-?"

Even Diver wakes quickly this time. A screaming, high-pitched wail throbs in the air. Their sleep-addled brains take a minute to place it. It's the storm siren.

The shrieks are followed by a disembodied voice calmly instructing all civilians to proceed to the nearest shelter.

Then she understands. The storm alarm is now an air raid siren.

There's a mad rush from the whole neighborhood in the direction of the shelters they've been frantically digging and propping up for the last few weeks. Grace, the only one who hasn't been digging, follows the rest of her family.

This is Four's first bombing. Later, such raids will become almost routine, met with dark humor instead of near panic.

This time, it's enough that they manage to stick together, even in the dark, and end up huddled together in the same shelter while the bombs go off overhead.

Underground, there's a hubbub of voices while everyone tries to sort out what's going on.

"What time is it?"

"What happened in the arena? Was anyone watching?"

"It's four in the morning."

"The television went dark, we couldn't see anything."

"I thought I saw Katniss with her bow."

"Did she shoot Finnick?"

"I couldn't tell, it all happened too fast."

"I could have sworn I heard gunfire. Not on the television, here. Before the sirens went off."

Grace shudders. She knows there were guns. _Annie, please be okay._

She whispers to the boys, holds Diver's hand, and tries to be brave.

It seems like forever, but in hindsight, the bombing ends surprisingly quickly, or else it moves on further along the shoreline. No one quite wants to come out of the cramped, stuffy, smelly shelter until dawn, though, when someone pokes his head out and reports damage but no signs of a threat from the air. Not long after, the voice on the intercom says the same, summoning the citizens out of their holes.

Grace and Diver are shocked to find their place still standing, with only a broken window. It's empty, but it's theirs.

* * *

Headquarters is far south of the Village, and that's where Rudder is these days. He's had to break the news to Foam that her husband died defending the Village, so that Annie could escape.

"So her life with was worth more," Foam says flatly.

"You saw the replays," Rudder reminds her. "They'll use her against Finnick." After he panicked, they knew they had a hold on him. And after he disappeared, they knew they'd need one. These are the pieces Donn put together.

She spits. "What's he doing, anyway?"

"Fighting a war," Rudder says.

"Abandoning his own people, protecting tributes from other districts."

Protecting Katniss. That's all Rudder knows. Where Peeta fits into the plan, he doesn't know. Most of whatever plan there may be was developed by Finnick and Mags after they arrived in the Capitol and had the opportunity to consort with the other rebels there. Where Finnick might be now, Rudder has no idea. Only that the Battle for Annie Cresta has given him confidence that his boy's not dead, no matter what the Capitol news programs keep trying to convince him.

Breaking the news to Elspa that she's his new second-in-command is easier than talking to Foam. She's stunned, but she takes it well. "I'll try to be worthy, sir."

"Now that we have a navy, I'll be gone for some time," Rudder informs her. "You'll oversee the troops and report to Pearleye. She has the final word on what she needs from the troops, but you'll be in charge of deciding how it's done. You won't be on your own; I'll leave you with the names of specialists you can call on."

"I won't let you down," Elspa swears.

Busy as he is consulting with Pearleye over strategy and making arrangements, Rudder can't get away from headquarters. He summons one of his Careers, a seventeen-year-old with a steady head, and gives him instructions to Nestor and Mell's place.

"You'll find someone in hiding. Disguise them as a soldier, and get them on the _Mags_." He names the recently captured and rechristened flagship of the rebel navy. "Move only by night if possible. Don't get caught, and don't name names even if you recognize them. Use the name Sandpiper. Once you're on the ship, stick together. We need to get as far away from the Capitol, as far south, as possible."

Clarents snaps out an acknowledgement of the order, and he's gone, leaving Rudder to execute the next step of the plan.

No one knows exactly how the fighting is going in Three, but they know they have allies there. Mags, Beetee, and Wiress have the oldest secret alliance in Panem.

Once the arena went dark, Finnick disappeared, and Annie couldn't be found, the bombing in Four began. They're better prepared than the Capitol reckoned with, but they're going to be stomped on like worms if they don't get better technology on their side. Capturing naval vessels was the first step. The next will be using those vessels to ship fish up to Three and and offer food and military support in exchange for technology.

Weapons may be manufactured in Two, but they're designed in Three, and there's enough manufacturing there that they should be able to start churning out materiel. First and foremost they need land mines for the borders, and antiaircraft defenses. The only reason Four is still on its feet is that the Capitol has underestimated its preparedness—this is why cutting outbound communications was so critical—and because the Capitol's had its hands full with districts like Twelve.

Pearleye and Rudder are convinced everything is going according to plan, but the plan depends upon acting as quickly as possible. It's only been ten days, and by seizing the element of surprise they've managed to cripple the Peacekeepers, but they're just barely staying one step ahead of their enemy.

Elspa will have to command the troops in Four while Rudder goes to Three. He boards the _Mags_ three days after the end of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games, and he inspects the ship to be sure all is ready. Crew, troops, barrels of dried fish, nautical charts for as much of the coastline as they have data on. Sandpiper.

Rudder almost doesn't recognize her, standing frozen beside Clarents in the last of the twilight with her hair buzzed and her face covered in dirt and blood to better disguise it. She doesn't move or acknowledge his presence, but he's not here for small talk. She's alive; that's the best he can do.

"We're ready," he informs the captain.

"Lay in a course for District Three," the captain orders the navigator, who repeats the command to ensure she's heard it correctly.

Clarents isn't. As they head north, he dares to approach Rudder. "Sir? Aren't we supposed to be taking Sandpiper, well, south?"

"Is that what I announced where everyone could hear me?" Rudder says mildly. "Are you questioning orders?"

"Yes, sir." Clarents brightens. "I mean, no, sir. I understand, sir."

It took him longer than it should have, but Rudder finally deciphered Donn's last message.

* * *

Pearleye sighs to herself at the banging on her door. _Already?_ Finnick's not even here and he's still up in her face demanding attention. Resigned, she presses the button on her desk to admit the first of what she expects will be a string of visitors this afternoon.

The door swings open to reveal Virginia Reel leaning on one crutch and holding the other aloft. When she's granted entrance, she lowers her improvised knocker to the ground and swings inside.

"Is it true?" she demands once she's been granted entrance. "Was he really spying for you all those years? He never said anything!"

Now, this was an interesting hire. Based on what Mags told Pearleye about Finnick's history, the whole family is loyal. Competence can only be judged in action, but with the character reference, Pearleye took her on for sensitive work. So far the decision's paid off.

Pearleye fixes her with a stern look. "Sit down. So you've been telling your family about your own assignments?"

Virginia is trapped. "Of course not," she stammers. Then her voice gets stronger. "But at least they know whose side I'm on!"

"And if we were using you as a spy, you'd be dead," Pearleye points out. "Yes, it was true. I'm going to make an announcement later backing up his story. I couldn't implicate him or Mags as long as they were in the hands of the Capitol, but now that we know he's free, I can confirm that he was reporting to me and Mags."

"Starting when?" Finnick's mother asks.

Pearleye gives no quarter. "You'd have to ask Mags, and she's dead. And that's another thing. It was safer for you to be estranged. Victors' families tend to die untimely. You may want to remain estranged. They came for Annie Cresta after he disappeared, and even I don't know where she is now. If they wanted a hold on him before his latest announcement, they'll be drooling over additional family members now."

Virginia flinches, and Pearleye's glad to see it. The last thing she needs is someone else close to Finnick who's privy to sensitive information. Pearleye can't solve the Annie problem, but she desperately hopes Rudder's on top of it. The Capitol may think they only want Annie because she'll be useful against Finnick, but once they've got her, if they question her, they'll find out that they've got a gem of information.

And all this time Pearleye worried that Annie was too unreliable to be trusted, and then it's Finnick who snaps under pressure. Of course. First taking in Cashmere from the Career pack, and then losing his head over another girl not an hour later. _Well, I didn't fully trust him either._

 _Not that we did a great job protecting Annie, but then, who thought we needed to?_ Even when they fed her voice to the jabberjays, it was just to make sure they had a means of controlling Finnick if he won. Not until he disappeared did they need to get their hands on her in person, enough to make it worth singling her out in the midst of the combat zone that Four's become.

Well, Mags left Pearleye with his situation, and now she's got to deal with it.

She faces Virginia. "If that's all-"

Shaking herself, Virginia reaches for the briefcase hanging from her shoulder. "It's not. If you have the time, I wanted to ask you about a pattern I've been noticing in my work."

Virginia's been put in charge of compiling maps that come into headquarters, so Pearleye's immediately interested. Most of the maps at this stage have been centering around the placement of landmines near the border, both the ones the rebels are planting, and the pre-existing ones they're discovering. "Go on."

Pearleye and Virginia bend their heads close together over the maps spread out over the mayor's oversize desk.

"Well, my work's all been on the eastern border. And that's shared with District Two, right?"

"Correct."

"And in the north is District Three, also along the coast." Again Pearleye nods, curious to see where Virginia is going with this.

Harsh banging interrupts them. It's going to be a long day.

Virginia looks up. "Should I leave?"

Pearleye tilts her head, prepares to call her secretary, and then shakes her head in annoyance. "No, I recognize the voice. He can wait." She presses the _Reject_ button on her desk. "Carry on."

"Okay. South is just water? And everything else is east?"

"Not quite," Pearleye explains. "South and east is uninhabited land. Or maybe unincorporated is better. There are signs that people are living there and hiding from the Capitol. But how far south you have to go before you reach a country that isn't Panem, I don't know."

"And north of Three?"

For this, Pearleye pulls a larger map, of all of Panem, from one of her drawers. It's not very detailed yet, but it's the best they've got. With luck, Finnick can get more detail out of this revolutionary circle in the Capitol that the Head Gamemaker has supposedly been running for years. "North of Three is Seven, which curves east around One to touch Six. And south and east of Six are the food districts."

Virginia runs her finger from Four along the coast to the bottom of the map, then along the desk beneath the map east to Ten. "And you can't sail to Ten or Eleven from here?"

"We're not sure how far south the land extends. No one's been that far in hundreds of years, and who knows how the coastline has changed? The food's always come by train."

"See, I thought it came by ship, because before my injury, I was always unloading food and lumber and loading fish."

"You must have lived in the south."

"Not too far south," Virginia protests. "Only block F."

"Far enough. The train only comes south as far as C. After that, you have to travel by ferry to get down to O. We had a number of theories about why, from difficult terrain to difficult neighbors to wanting to give everyone busy work, but no one knew for sure."

"But now we think it's all the old land mines, right?"

"Well, we haven't found any secret neighboring countries." Pearleye had been hoping. Any enemy of the Capitol would be her friend. "So it was quite possibly the land mines keeping them from running the rails any further south. I'm sure the busy work of transferring goods from train to ship was a plus, and then the mines would also have put a damper on any escape attempts."

"That all makes sense. But now how are we going to get food? Or, why go to all this trouble to import grain and fruits and vegetables if we could live on fish?"

"No, we do need food that isn't fish," Pearleye confirms. She's impressed by all the critical thinking that's obviously gone in to those hours spent poring over maps. She wonders if Mags missed an opportunity to include this woman in the inner circle. If Virginia hadn't been so dead set against training at the academy, she might have been recruited. "We've been stockpiling what food we could for years. And just because we've never been allowed to plant grain or grow fruit in Four, doesn't mean we couldn't. We have a plan for that as well."

"But with all the land mines we're finding, planting will be hard. Look at these numbers."

Virginia pulls out a sheet with charts showing the distribution of the land mines that have already been uncovered and mapped. Pearleye listens with a sinking heart as she listens to the other woman detail the projections for land mines they expect to find as the discovery efforts continue.

So that's where this was going. It's definitely an obstacle that they hadn't reckoned with, and a problem that's now landed solidly on Pearleye's plate. But as leader, she has to be conscious of morale. She can't let on how overwhelmed she feels.

With as encouraging a smile as she can muster, Pearleye tells Virginia, "That's certainly one reason your work is so important, apart from the obvious defensive applications. It may someday become possible to send food through District Seven. But right now it's not.

"I may pull you into a meeting to share these findings with the rest of the war council. If you have no further questions, I invite you to spend the afternoon organizing a presentation of your figures."

"I'd be glad to," Virginia says.

Virginia inclines her head respectfully and leaves. On her way out, she has to duck to avoid a collision with Brine, who's pushing his way in.

"So _he_ got to know about the revolution in advance," he erupts right on schedule, "but _I_ didn't?! _I_ get to find out when Rudder opens fucking fire on the stage on Reaping Day?!"

Pearleye massages her temples. Make that a very long day.

* * *

Sander welcomes his wife home after months away with a long hug. Neither of them wants to let go.

"Tell me everything that happened while I was gone," Virginia demands.

"It hasn't been the same without you." He wipes his eyes. "I've just been digging all the time. Not much to say about that. They've finally gotten us some machines to help. I don't guess there's anything you're allowed to tell me?" He knows she's doing top-secret work, and that's all.

Virginia shakes her head. "Not really. Just that I'm glad to be useful. What about everyone else? Digging too?"

He nods. "Oh, you just missed Buck. He was home last week, now he's off at sea. It was strange to see him in uniform."

"He was accepted into the militia, then? I've missed so much."

"He was. He said even the non-Careers, the kids who went to learn a few survival skills and never touched a weapon, learned important lessons at the academy, like following orders and keeping their heads in a crisis."

"Oh, yeah? They taught them to follow orders military-style? I didn't think there was a lot of that once you got into the arena. Seemed like a free-for-all to me."

"Yes, well." Sander looks uncomfortable. "Apparently they taught them a lot of things that were going to be more use to the militia than to the Hunger Games. On purpose. Like keeping watch over each other and guarding each other's backs. Buck said they said it's the reason District Four didn't get more victors. They were too busy learning instincts that get you killed in the arena but make for a loyal army."

Virginia sighs. "Ever feel like you were wrong?"

"Well, if you mean, do I wish we'd _known_ , then yes. I wish I knew how to fight. But we weren't wrong, not to say no to training for the Hunger Games.

"And I'll tell you one thing." Sander's voice grows more impassioned. "Finnick didn't know either, any more than Buck did. Or Brine—you should have seen the shock on his face. Would you tell kids about your secret treasonous plans? If Finnick ran away from home at nine, it was for glory. He killed five people before he turned fourteen. And who knows how many now."

Virginia thinks of the land mines by the border of Four. "You haven't killed anyone?"

"No, although sometimes I wish..." Sander widens his eyes, consumed with curiosity. "You haven't, have you?"

"No," she answers, hesitantly. "Not directly."

"You would tell me, wouldn't you? I know you can't give out details, but-"

Virginia shakes her head firmly. "No. Just desk work. But people are going to die as a result of what I do. And I'm glad!"

"Soldiers," Sander says. "Peacekeepers. Not reaped children."

"I know. Does that mean no second chances?" Virginia's been going back and forth in her mind ever since she heard the announcement, and she wants to talk it over. "He is still..." She hesitates. "Our son."

Sander looks uncomfortable. "You've been thinking about it too? Well, I'm not sure if he is. If he's changed, and he's making amends, then that's one thing. But if he just likes the taste of blood and he's equally happy to do his killing in an arena and on the battlefield, then he's no son of mine."

Virginia can't disagree. There's the blood you're born with, and the blood you choose to spill. "We wait for him to come to us with an apology, then."

 _Your call, Finnick._

* * *

"Can you show the last few seconds again?"

Pearleye presses rewind on the tape.

On screen, Mags' right shoulder lifts and her arm moves.

"She's tapping Finnick on the chest." Drake, former mayor and now one of her council, offers this interpretion, but without confidence.

"It's hard to see from behind," Theodore, long-time academy trainer, cautions. "Do we not have any recordings from other cameras? Any other angles?"

"That's all District Three could get us," Pearleye tells them. "We're lucky to have a recording at all. This is the evidence we have to make our decision. Either we try to get Johanna Mason out of the Capitol, or Peeta Mellark. And we do it based on who we think is more important to the revolution."

"Look!" Arthur calls. He used to run a ring of smugglers who made sure fish got counted in the quotas but never left the district. "Finnick's face. He's got his eyes rolled up in his head and he's gritting his teeth. He's frustrated that he's having to go back for Peeta, almost panicky."

Pearleye freeze frames on that shot.

Brine shakes his head. "Facial expressions while you're running all over the place don't mean shit. Look at my Games, see how many expressions you can catch me in."

With Rudder in Three, Brine's the last victor left here, and he's making the most of it.

"No, but Mags signaled him to go back, and he didn't like it. It was her idea."

Pearleye's resisting the urge to comment. She wants the unbiased opinion of her council.

"And Mags definitely ran into the fog when Katniss couldn't carry her," Drake points this out.

Brine adds, "Peeta was just slowing Finnick down, and they still decided to save him and not her."

Slowly, they reach a consensus. Saving Peeta was Mags' idea, not Finnick's. Finnick was following her orders.

That's an important point, because Mags' decisions carry weight. Finnick has very little credibility.

"Now Johanna." Is she just the latest in a string of notches on Finnick's belt, or was she a key part of the conspiracy to rescue Katniss?

The council of war in Four watches Johanna herd Beetee and Wiress into the jungle. She bosses Blight into half-carrying an injured Beetee.

On screen, the anthem plays.

 _"Finnick and Katniss," Wiress begins._

 _"-Are still alive." Beetee, stating the obvious._

 _Blight adds, pessimistically. "And the Careers."_

 _Johanna's scowl is unreadable. "Well, so are we!" she snarls in defiance. "Now get some sleep. I'll keep watch."_

 _The Three tributes obediently lie down, but Blight hesitates, giving Johanna a wry, bleak look._

 _"I'm not afraid of them," she whispers tightly. "I'm going home."_

 _"Good luck," he says. She looks skeptical, but he repeats softly, "I mean it, Mason. Good luck."_

 _Blight lies down, obviously without any hope of luck for himself._

They watch Johanna's face when she realizes Blight is dead. Angry but not worried, they agree. "She's more worried about Three than about her own district partner. And she can't even stand them, so she must have a plan."

"Maybe just an outlier alliance," Brine speculates, "if she didn't trust the Careers or Finnick and Katniss."

But then they watch—some of them for the first time—Johanna and Finnick teaming up on the beach. "He said he didn't care about anyone outside of Four and Twelve, but he sure as hell looks relieved."

"Not as relieved as she does."

"Wait, go back," Arthur prompts. "When did he say that?"

Pearleye replays Finnick.

 _"Well, I guess we're not holding hands any more." His trademark laugh. "Every time that cannon goes off, it's music to my ears. I don't care about any of them."_

"But you said he was lying on camera for ten years to spy for Mags," Drake says to Pearleye.

"Well, if we assume everything he said and did in the arena was a lie, then we have _nothing_ to go on!" Theodore points out, exasperated.

"Well, watch him interact with Johanna."

Finnick insists on waking her up and including her in the planning. They share a long look before she agrees.

"She's in on the rescue plan," Drake ventures. Everyone thinks he may be right, but no one can be sure.

They continue watching the bootlegged replay from Three.

"There!"

Pearleye plays it in slow motion.

Finnick and Johanna are at the lightning tree. He's caught her forearms in his hands and is saying goodbye before she and Katniss head into the jungle with the wire. He looks casually flirtatious, but she's got a serious look as she tries to read his face. Then she nods, slightly.

"He's rubbing her forearm with his thumb."

"That doesn't mean anything," Brine scoffs. "He can't keep his hands off her."

"Johanna Mason? She'd have castrated him by now." A few chuckles. "No, he's signaling her something and she's agreeing."

"That's not a lot to go on."

Johanna takes down Katniss when the Two Careers show up. She leads them deeper into the jungle, fleeing but also taunting them with her kill. The screen goes black on Brutus and Enobaria chasing Johanna.

"We have no more data after this point," Pearleye tells him, and she clicks the off button.

"Well, not from the arena. We know Katniss is alive; we've seen the propaganda. Finnick too."

"So she didn't kill Katniss."

"She meant to. Left her to bleed out."

"She wouldn't make that mistake, not Johanna Mason. She was drawing them off Katniss, protecting her. Boasted about killing her so they wouldn't go back for her."

"Why not stand and fight when Two showed up? Katniss is a good shot."

"Endgame," Brine answers. "You start killing your allies."

"No, she was protecting her. Did you see her shushing Katniss, right after she knocked her down?"

Brine's eyes narrow. "No, I missed that."

Pearleye hits the remote.

Brine shakes his head after the third replay. "It's too hard to tell. You can't see Johanna's face in that shot; it could be static, with sound quality as bad as this."

"But she protected Three, and she and Finnick kept exchanging looks and signals. And then there's an escape, and you're telling me that was a coincidence?"

"What do we know about Johanna from before the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games?" Drake asks Pearleye.

Pearleye phrases her response as neutrally as possible. "Finnick spoke well of her. He said she wasn't fully inducted as a revolutionary, because of the surveillance in the Capitol, but he said he was pretty sure she was one hundred percent the idea of a revolution. Mags never got to meet her until after the stroke; she'd left recruiting the younger crowd to Finnick."

"Well, she's not that pretty, but he's not that picky," Brine jokes, and there are snorts.

"It doesn't matter what Finnick thought of Johanna," Pearleye reminds them. "All we care about is what Mags thought."

"It is her war, after all," Arthur says. "It looks like Johanna was with them—with us—and Peeta obviously wasn't."

"But look at what Mags did," Drake says. "She decided they were teaming up with Twelve, and she made sure Finnick protected Peeta. They left Johanna to her own devices. We're going to have to do the same."

"Maybe he wanted to team up with her from the beginning but couldn't. Do you know what the bloodbath is like?" Brine asks. "Katniss and Finnick went for the Cornucopia, and Johanna never did."

"But neither did Peeta or Mags, and Mags was pointing Finnick to Peeta. I think we have to take that same gesture as her pointing us to Peeta."

"So we agree?" Pearleye finally concludes, when the discussion peters out. "When we go to negotiate an exchange of prisoners, we prioritize Peeta's rescue over Johanna's, because Mags thought he was important, even if we don't know why."

* * *

Poor Johanna. :( Part 5 will be her story.


	2. Chapter 2

Annie huddles into the corner of her room, arms wrapped around her knees. It's no more than a niche in a dirt wall, but it's the only privacy she's had since Rudder—since Donn—since Finnick—

Shuddering, Annie tries to forget the events of that night. Hiding with strangers, sleeping below decks with the troops en route to Three, hiding with all the most valuable civilians here in this underground bunker.

The bunker that's being built even as they occupy it. Only a few days ago did private rooms start getting excavated, and Annie got dibs on the first one. Until then, everyone was sleeping in the labs together.

Annie hated it. Every minute of the day and night, clenched up in an effort not to have meltdowns around strangers, and having them anyway. People reacting the way concerned, well-meaning people always do: putting pressure on her to stop. Barely sleeping at night because she couldn't relax. Exhausted all the time from sleep deprivation.

The moment she got her own room, she remembers alternately sleeping and crying in relief for days, the curtain firmly closing her off. Not eating for a whole day because she couldn't bear to leave, then regretting it. Facing down the stares, real or imagined, when she finally dragged herself out to ask for her ration.

Now she's slept, and she's stuck alone in this room with her brain and its unlimited imagination. Where's Grace? Where's Finnick? Does Foam hate her?

Memories are as bad as imagination. Does Finnick hate her, for Mags? Does she hate Finnick, for Mags?

But always, no matter how much she agonizes over anyone else, her fears come back to the same place. Is it safe here? How long before they find her? What is that sound?

Footsteps. Someone's coming down the hallway.

As soon as they open the curtain, she'll have the advantage. There's no light source in here, and the hall light is on. She'll dart around them as fast as she can, try to avoid being grabbed.

Thud. Thud. Footsteps on dirt.

Then what? There's only one way in or out. _Why don't we have a secret back way out?_ Yes, the one entrance is supposed to be well hidden, but what if the enemy finds it anyway? She needs a secret exit, or she won't feel safe.

What is safe?

Thud. The footsteps stop.

Annie holds her breath.

"Annie?"

Annie jerks and squeezes her eyes shut. She claps her hands over her ears, because they're using Finnick's voice to lure her out just like they used hers on him, or worse, she's hallucinating again-

The curtain ripples. Opening her eyes, Annie shifts her weight and rolls forward onto the balls of her feet, ready to bolt.

"Annie, it's just me. I won't come in if you don't want me to, but I'm here."

Annie hesitates. She knows that voice: steady, reassuring, calm when he feels anything but. She hates that he has to use that voice on her, but she knows it. Knows it so well she can't imagine the Capitol mimicking it this convincingly.

All at once, Annie bolts—but not past him, straight at him. Her head barrels into his chest, and her arms go around him. He starts to move, then freezes. Only when she nods does he throw his own arms around her and squeeze the breath out of her right back.

She drags him down onto her bed—which is nothing more than a pile of blankets and rags—and climbs onto his lap, pushing him back against the wall. There's hardly enough room for two people in here, and it's too dark to see anything, but she can smell him, and she's running her hands frantically over his body, checking for damage, while he says her name over and over again.

The smell is unfamiliar, the odors of a man living rough, instead of fish or cologne, but there's a certain rightness to it. Annie knows this is him too.

He doesn't flinch when she touches him, not anywhere, and she has time to silently thank the universe for bringing him home in one piece before her emotions come crashing in on her again.

"Annie. I'm sorry." Finnick's back, and the first thing she hears from him is an apology.

Red-hot anger surges through Annie. "For?"

"For losing my head. For confirming that they wanted you as a hostage."

"What about for Mags?" Annie demands. "You killed her!"

She pulls a deep breath into her lungs, prepared to fight back as soon as he points out that it took both of them. _I couldn't have done anything differently. You could have! They released Peeta. In his own district! Mags could have come home._

But Finnick only freezes. He goes as still as if he's Mags and she's killed him too.

He doesn't move for so long that her anger breaks and gives way to fear. "Finnick?"

A small whimper. He's not fighting her. He can't. And now she feels worse than when she took out her pain on Mags right after her Hunger Games, because at least Mags would tell her to cut it out.

Then she's angry again, because if Finnick had just saved Mags, they wouldn't be having this not-quite-fight. He and Mags went as tributes to save Katniss. Not Peeta!

"I was so afraid," he begins, in a deadened voice that sends chills down Annie's spine. "That I wouldn't be able to. She—her picture—that I'd let her down. But I did it. And then I let her down anyway.

"You never lived your whole life trying to make her proud. She would have been so disappointed in me. Running after you without so much as a plan. Come to save you, yes, but not—not like that."

Annie tightens her arms around him and puts her hand on his back, because she can't beat him up if he's doing it himself, even for the wrong reasons. "Come on. You're harder on yourself than she ever was."

Finnick shakes his head, but when he speaks, he sounds a little more normal. "I put you in worse danger. I could have played it cool, done some reconnaissance to see if you were really in the arena, and above all, not sent the message that if my enemies want me to make mistakes, they need to torture you. Now you're here." He runs his fingers through her hair, barely an inch long after Mell buzzed it close to her scalp. "Disguise?" he asks.

"It'll grow," she says reassuringly. "It's growing. And you? No wounds?"

"They've all healed. Skin, electric shock, everything. Two arenas, and nothing to show I was even there. Fortune's golden boy," he spits.

Annie has no scars from hers either, none to show anyway. Scrapes and scratches, from swimming through felled trees to reach the surface. Hunger. Exhaustion. _Fear guilt guilt fear panic nightmare fear fear._ "You heard about Donn? And Octavius?" Donn, and Evan, and Mags...it's too much. She can't keep living with these memories. Why does everyone keep _dying_ for her?

"Rudder told me," Finnick says. "Donn was my fault. But he said Octavius died with a weapon in his hand and a smile on his face, gunning down Peacekeepers onstage."

"Donn and I barricaded ourselves into the Village, let everyone think we were loyal, like you said, and they didn't come after us. There was fighting everywhere-" Annie shudders, remembering.

"We didn't think they'd spare any resources on you, in the middle of that bloodbath. They had their hands full, and the two of you were very low-profile. Then I as good as told them that you were worth your weight in gold as a hostage."

"Finnick, it's over. I'm safe. No one even knows I'm in District Three, right?"

"I couldn't believe you were here," Finnick says, clutching her to his chest. "I was just on my way through to Four, reported to Rudder that I'd brought a train full of food-"

"You brought food?!" Annie interrupts him. Her stomach growls at the mere mention. "How was this not the first thing you told me?"

Finnick flinches, guilty now. "You've been doing without, then?"

Annie makes an unhappy face. "It's like what I grew up with. There's always food, but never enough."

"Well, I couldn't bring much. One train for the whole district. The other train's going to Four. But it's a start. Have we been shipping food up from Four?"

"Yeah, there's fish," Annie tells him. "But as you know..."

"You can't live on fish." Finnick finishes her sentence. "It'll get better. I'm working on it, I promise. Number one priority. What else? How are you being treated? Do you want a different room?" Finnick turns his head side to side, looking around in the dark. "It's not exactly-"

"No," Annie says firmly. "I chose this one. It's small and dark and deep underground, where no one will find me."

She knows it looks like District Three locking the mad girl into a cell, but she used to hide in the cabinet under the sink back home. Back when she could still fit.

"Does someone bring you food?"

Annie wrinkles her nose. "There's a common area. I have to go collect it. But they ration it out to everyone. We don't fight over it. I'm being treated well, Finnick. I'm just not doing very well."

"If I stay, you'll just be in more danger," Finnick says despondently. "And I'm sorry for that. I was on my way to Four when I found out you were here, and if I spend too much time in Three, everyone's going to wonder why, and they'll start looking for you."

Annie swallows. "I understand." _Just be grateful you got him back at all. You don't get to keep him any more than you ever did._

She knows better than to even suggest he stay here, in hiding. He'd be safe, yes, but safe will kill him from the inside out. He has to be in the middle of the action, and she reminds herself that this is what she signed up for. Finnick Odair. He warned her from the beginning that it wouldn't be easy, and she said she was up for it.

"Well, you'll be home soon," she says, enviously.

Irony twists Finnick's mouth. "Where I'm so popular, I'm sure. Maybe food will make up for losing Mags."

"They're calling it 'Mags' War' there, you know," Annie tells him. People talk around her when they think she doesn't understand.

"Are they?" Finnick is shaken. "I thought...so few people knew of her decades of plotting, and then she died just as it was starting."

"Pearleye knew. And Mags is our martyr."

Finnick's silent, and Annie holds him tight until his shoulders stop quivering.

"We'll keep you as safe as we can here," he promises. "The good news is that Rudder tells me they're building a fortified bunker for you. It's going to have a force field and everything. Not," he laughs, "that I don't know how to bring down a force field. But on top of all the other defenses, it does make me feel better about you being here."

Finnick leans back, settling more comfortably against the wall behind him. Annie shifts position to settle in with him, envying the relaxation she can feel seeping into his body. "You know, I just had an idea," Finnick says thoughtfully. "I can't stay, but I'd feel better if you had someone who could. A full-time bodyguard that I trusted. And I think you'd feel better too."

Cautiously, Annie nods.

"It might be a good solution for her situation, as well. I'd have to ask if she's willing, but I think I'm going to. If she agrees, it'll work out for everyone."

Annie feels like another one of Finnick's ideas is getting away from her. "Finnick, I don't even know anything about this person." It's got to be someone he knows from the academy, and she doesn't want him trading favors for her safety, even if—especially because—the last few years of her safety from the Capitol have been bought at the price of his good behavior.

Finnick is sounding more enthusiastic by the minute. "Okay, you're not immediately going to like it when I tell you her name, but hear me out-"

Suddenly Annie knows. She was watching the Hunger Games this year, after all. "Finnick, no, she's a Career-"

"I'm going to tell you her life story-"

"Finnick," she argues desperately, "I'm still scared of Rudder!"

"Annie, she's more damaged than you!"

That gets Annie's attention, if only to argue. "No, how can she be-" Well, she watched her brother die, and Annie will be the last one to deny that that can break you.

"I know you both, and I say she is," Finnick insists. "You know what happened to make you like this, you know it was wrong, and you know what you want in life. She—Listen."

Slowly, with growing horror, Annie finds herself feeling for the girl she can see all too easily in her imagination. And she finds herself making comparison after comparison, holding Finnick's claim up to scrutiny.

Annie was afraid of making her adopted family angry enough to stop feeding her, but she wasn't forbidden to ever have a normal conversation. She was the outsider at home, but she had friends at school, affairs as a teenager. She was unprepared when she entered the arena, but for sixteen years before that, she had choices, and she made the choice not to train. She had a boy call her a prude and a slut in the same sentence when she told him not to kiss her again, but she didn't think she was letting her district down if she said no.

"And you know how I got my sponsorship record," Finnick finishes, echoing her thoughts. "But I wasn't having sex with my mentors at nine."

"No, you just started selling your body at fourteen," Annie reminds him. He likes to downplay his own experiences.

"Yeah," he says, promptly downplaying right on cue, "and I signed up for it, and I got something out of it. I had the upper hand. Cashmere has never once had the upper hand. The moment she looked like she might get it, Snow crushed her down again, because that's what he does. That's what he was trying to do to me; I was just able to dodge, because I had warning. She was forced into real sex slavery, her partners picked and prices set for her."

"You had-"

"I had _some_ set," Finnick says firmly. Annie stops pushing, because she knows how important this is to him. She doesn't want him acting like what Snow did to him was acceptable, but this conversation never gets her anywhere. Finnick always insists if he wants to keep himself going, he has to focus on how he gamed the system. So she lets him finish what he's saying.

"But she had _none_ of my playboy-lifestyle-covering-for-espionage strategies. None of my reporting back to Mags and Pearleye what I'd found. Just constant, daily humiliation. She had none of my conviction that this was something Snow did to everyone, instead of something she'd done wrong.

"And that's another reason I'd like to leave her with you." Finnick sighs. "I started having sex with her, and I don't know why or whether it was the right decision."

Annie's eyebrows fly up. This is new. Finnick's sex life has always been more complicated than he'll admit, but it's the first time he's brought a dilemma to her. "You don't know why?" Annie echoes gently.

"Well, I'd like to think it was because I thought it was the right thing for her, even if I was wrong about that. But then we turned out to be so damn compatible that I can't help wondering if I'm somehow justifying my own desires..."

"I highly doubt that," Annie says, almost amused. "How many partners have you had since the last time I saw you? How many because it was what they wanted?"

"Aside from her? Just the—well, two. Wait, are we talking friendship sex, or transactions? Because there were the sponsors and the one Gamemaker-"

"Right. Thank you for making my point." Annie elbows him, and Finnick huffs and stops arguing. "I can't see you doing that to anyone else."

"All right," he admits, "but I still don't know if it was the right call for her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, should I have avoided sex with her because she obviously has no way of knowing what she really wants? Or was giving her something with kindness and respect the only way she was ever going to get a healthy experience so she could figure it out? Because as far as I could tell, as long as I didn't want her, she was going to be convinced that there was something wrong with her. Maybe I should have waited anyway, talked to her until she understood, but...I don't know. She just relaxed so much once she wasn't confused about why I didn't want her. I don't know."

"Wow." Annie flounders, with no answer to give him. And here she thought she had it rough trying to make sure Finnick never felt used. "You don't think the same thing would happen with me? She never had women pay for her?"

"She did, but she might not expect it in the same way. She'll probably offer at some point, but I don't think she'll agonize over how she failed if you say you've never been interested in women. I could be wrong.

"Look, if you say no, I won't bring it up to her. I just want to get her into a position where she isn't dependent on me, and she has someone else she can rely on, without all these fucked-up dynamics. It doesn't have to be with you. I think I can get her a place in the militia, and she'll get some respect there."

When Annie doesn't say anything, Finnick ventures, "I do think you'd be safe with her. She keeps her head in a crisis, follows orders and takes initiative as the situation calls for. She doesn't think she's smart, but she picks new skills up very quickly, and she has an impressive array of skills already.

"We hijacked those trains together, and we had so many emergencies getting them here—one thing after another went wrong—but Cashmere was amazing through it all. I wouldn't have been able to get any food through without her. And it should go without saying that I would trust her not to hurt you, or I wouldn't have brought this up."

"I know, but she's a Career." Annie wants to help whenever she thinks about a girl who didn't choose to kill for glory or money, for whom training was just the only way she had to please the adults around her. But the moment Annie summons up an image of that deadly warrior on screen, she quails inside.

"You have a good track record with us Careers," Finnick teases. "And I think you'll find her easier to deal with than me, even. She's a sweetheart, but beyond that, she's very quiet, painfully shy, and passive, when she's not drawing on her training for performing socially. I somehow ended up in the position of being the only one she has left, and what she wants from me is to make decisions for her. She wants me to lay out rules so she knows where she stands."

"Well, that's what she'd be used to, from the academy," Annie guesses.

Finnick buries his face in his hands. "I know, and I'm trying. But it's a hell of a lot of responsibility, and I have no idea if I got anything right. I'd feel safer if she were with you. And you with her."

"Can I just...meet her?" Annie tries. It's the best she can do. "With you here?"

"Sure, yes," Finnick says eagerly. "And if the two of you don't hit it off, she can stay here and join the militia, or come back with me to Four, whatever she chooses."

Annie thinks they both know which one she'll choose. "How long are you staying?"

Finnick slumps. "Just tonight. I'm sorry. Rudder said he has orders from Pearleye to send me on to Four the moment he saw me. He didn't say so, but I think he's stretching it just to give me a night here with you."

That doesn't leave Annie much time to make this decision. "Is she here?" That thought alone, Cashmere the Career in Annie's underground sanctuary, is enough to start up a flutter of panic, but she forces it down. _Do you trust Finnick or not?_ she asks her stomach impatiently.

"If not yet, she should be on her way. I left her guarding the trains, found Rudder, made my report, and asked him to send her here. I told him I didn't want any bullshit about being at war with District One. She's with me."

"Okay." All she has to do is meet Cashmere, tell Finnick she's still terrified of Careers, and then she'll be alone in her room again. "Are you coming back?" She knew she couldn't keep him, but one night is less than she hoped. _Better than never again. Be grateful._

"I will when I can. I don't want to come so often I endanger you again. I'm too recognizable, and I don't want anyone tracking me to find you. I've considered having my face recreated, but short of that...But Rudder did say that once Pearleye's done with me, he can make a big stink about being short-handed and needing me here. In other words, be my cover for visiting you. And he is short-handed, so it's true."

Annie takes a deep breath. Better than nothing.

Finnick cups his hand around the curve of her head. "Do you have any pills here?"

Annie shakes her head. "I was sedated when Rudder evacuated me, and even if I'd been able to grab them, I'd have run out by now."

"I'll see what I can do," Finnick promises. Annie immediately starts to worry about what he'll do to get her medication after his last, unsuccessful attempt, but paradoxically, with the war on, she thinks it might be less dangerous than smuggling out of the Capitol. Chaos and freedom now, instead of order and surveillance.

Finnick rubs his cheek over her hair. "Hang in there, Annie, love."

"I have the fur coat you gave me," Annie tells him. "Which we both know is magic. And I didn't mean to yell at you earlier. Forgive?"

"If you can forgive me for having to be here, I can forgive you for anything." He hesitates. "I guess I'll go see if Cashmere's turned up yet."

* * *

Fighting off a bout of light-headedness at how sure she is that the next few minutes are going to be humiliating, Cashmere follows Finnick through the shelter to meet his fiancée. The one who's smart and nice and very good with her hands, and that Finnick decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The one he couldn't stop talking about all the time they spent together in Thirteen.

Cashmere's searched through her mental list of templates, but she doesn't really have a good script for this encounter. She'll have to do it unscripted, then, and she just knows she's going to be too stupid to make a good impression.

To distract herself from her nerves, Cashmere forces herself to focus on memorizing her surroundings. After all, if she's going to be a bodyguard, she needs to know the lay of the land.

This underground shelter is in some ways nicer than the ones Cashmere left behind in Thirteen, in some ways not so nice. It's very much under construction, so she has to pick her way over and around rubbish as she follows Finnick, and the floor is unleveled dirt. But the place is wired to the gills, and they've begun to mount screens on the walls.

It's actually amazing, even with the work still in progress, that they've managed to dig this much space out, reinforce the walls, and wire it in a period of several weeks, but they must have had enough hands and engineering know-how.

The rooms toward the front of the shelter are larger, with tables and chairs. They're to be shared by everyone. As Cashmere moves toward the back, she sees the rooms getting smaller, for personal use.

"Furthest back on the right," Finnick announces as they turn down a corridor. One fluorescent bulb lights the hallway, but no light comes from behind any of the rooms opening onto the corridor.

There are no doors, only privacy curtains. Annie's is pulled shut.

Finnick doesn't go in, but stops outside and just touches his hand to the edge of the curtain. "Annie? It's Finnick. Cashmere's here. Do you want to meet her?"

Silence, then a murmur too soft for Cashmere to catch. It must have been favorable, because Finnick pulls open the curtain. "How do you want us to sit, Annie? There's not a lot of room in there."

While they're getting in place, waiting for Annie to scoot to the far end of the room, then Finnick to take up position next to her, and finally Cashmere to sit closest to the outside, it dawns on Cashmere that Annie may actually be more nervous than she is. Annie who spent her Games terrified of the pack and couldn't get through her interviews afterward, or her Victory Tour.

More unsure of how to behave, but less worried about being despised, Cashmere greets Annie with a warm, tremulous smile when Finnick introduces them.

The room is too dim to really make out Annie's features without openly gawking, but the whole space is hardly larger than a good-sized bed, so Cashmere manages to get an impression of Annie's silhouette. She's curled up against the opposite wall, knees against her chest and arms around her knees.

While Cashmere is trying to figure out how to put Annie at ease and be worthy of Finnick's trust, Annie speaks up, unexpectedly.

"I saw you in the arena," is the first thing she says. "I'm sorry about your brother. I'm sorry about everything they did to you. I wanted to thank you—I saw you had Finnick's back when District Two attacked."

"I-thank you." Cashmere hardly knows what to respond to first. "He saved my life."

"I'm glad," Annie says. She looks like she means it. She lifts her chin and looks directly at Cashmere, letting her smile show. It feels more genuine than if the smile had been there from the beginning for politeness' sake. It's getting harder for Cashmere to be afraid of her. "You won't be terribly bored here? There's not a lot to do unless you're an engineer, and we're only allowed to move in and out by dark."

"But I'll have a job," Cashmere tells her. If no one expects anything of her except neutralizing any threats she can't ward off in advance, Annie doesn't know how much of a relief that will be. "That's what being a bodyguard is all about: keeping everything boring."

She didn't think it was especially funny, but Annie gives a tiny laugh. Cashmere's nerves settle just that little bit more.

Finnick slides an arm around Cashmere's shoulders. "I think we could all use a little boredom these days."

Cashmere nods, and Annie nods harder.

"All right, if this is where you want to be...I feel selfish saying it, and I don't know why my life is more important than yours, but they are hunting for me, and I can't fight them myself. I suppose you can't go home?"

"Not any more," Cashmere says quietly. How could she go home without her brother, anyway? And she owes Finnick for her life, and for all the kindness.

"Annie," Finnick interjects, "it's not that your life is more important. They're hunting for her too."

"I hadn't thought of that," Annie says. "Yes, stay, then. Maybe they won't find us down here."

"That's what I'm hoping," Finnick says. "But if they did, I'm not saying that your job would be to protect her at the cost of your life, Cashmere. Just that you have the training to hopefully get both of you out alive, more than Annie by herself."

"Maybe it won't come to that." Annie reaches past Finnick for Cashmere's hand. Surprised, Cashmere lets her take it. "I hope we can be friends in time," Annie continues, "maybe even sisters."

"I never had a sister." No one can ever replace Gloss, but maybe a sister will turn out to be what she needs right now.

"I miss mine."

With that, all of Cashmere's fear melts. For a moment, Annie becomes just another one of her students, lonely at the academy and missing her family. Cashmere gives her the same impulsive hug she gives all of them.

Finnick is beaming in relief. "I know you both, and I think sisters is not out of the question. But if you give it a try, and you're unhappy, Cashmere, let me know. We'll work out another arrangement."

"I'll tell you if she seems unhappy, even if she doesn't," Annie promises.

"Annie's very observant," Finnick says with a wink to Cashmere.

Cashmere smiles politely back. "I'm sure everything will work out. Oh, Rudder said to tell you-"

"I know, he wants me to report to him first thing in the morning, and it's almost dawn. I have to leave before daylight. I'm going, I'm going. I don't know when I'll be coming back..."

He glances at Annie, who smiles reassuringly. "We'll be fine. We're going to get to know each other."

Cashmere's stomach seizes up with a chill. Everyone always thinks there's something to get to know. But she keeps her smiling mask on, because underneath there's only emptiness, and no one wants to see that.


	3. Chapter 3

Cashmere doesn't offer to leave Annie's tiny room, and Annie doesn't ask her to. They sit in a painful silence for a while, then Annie starts talking to her. Anything to distract herself from the all-encompassing fear.

"You probably know me as the mad girl." Might as well get it over with.

Cashmere looks uncertainly at Annie, sensing a trap.

"You don't have to answer that. Anyway, it's partly true. It comes and goes. Most of the time I'm like this, but sometimes I have meltdowns. But they pass. What doesn't pass is that I'm always afraid, even when there's no reason. I like small, enclosed spaces like this one, and I have a hard time leaving them. I have trouble sleeping. I have nightmares. And a lot of times, I can't handle company. It's not you, it's me.

"I think Finnick told you that you don't have to babysit, just figure out what to do in an emergency? If dealing with the mad girl gets to be too much, I won't take it personally. There's a lot of other people around here, who might not be much more cut out for a war than me, but they're handling it better. You might enjoy their company more."

"I don't know anyone here," Cashmere whispers. Her eyes are wide with dread.

"You can stay," Annie promises her. "As long as I can handle company." She wouldn't have thought anyone as successful as Cashmere would be afraid of getting to know some engineers, but then she wouldn't have guessed Finnick's hangups from mandatory viewing either. So she takes pity on Cashmere and whatever has her so afraid. "I just wanted you to be prepared. If—or when, let's be honest—I have a meltdown, I might have to ask you to leave. You can come back when it's over."

"You don't despise me?" Cashmere asks.

"Why, because you're a Career? Because of Evan? Finnick told me about Career training in One. I can't say what I would have done if I were you. Other than not be athletic enough for it to matter," Annie adds with a self-deprecating snort.

A series of complicated emotions plays across Cashmere's face. Watching her struggle to find a response, Annie's belatedly struck with realization. "Oh, you mean because you've had sex with Finnick? Sorry, I keep forgetting I'm supposed to care. If you were there for each other, had each other's backs, kept each other from being alone...I'm glad."

"You don't see me as a threat, is that it?" Cashmere wonders.

"Honestly, I'd rather get to know you without him in the picture. If we're going to be living together, we're going to have to have a relationship that doesn't revolve around the fact that we've slept with the same man."

Again that flash of fear, but Cashmere doesn't elaborate, so Annie has to guess. "No, really, I don't mind. I know I'm supposed to either not have a serious relationship or I'm supposed to care who he sleeps with, but I had to throw a lot of ballast overboard to survive after the Hunger Games. Finnick helped me stay afloat, I trust him, I can't care about anything that isn't keeping us alive."

Cashmere just nods and gives her a smile that seems partly polite, partly real. Annie thinks she's picking up a willingness to be friendly, but a lot of uncertainty about how to interact. Annie has no idea how much of that is shyness, her personal history, Annie's publicized madness, or the complications of their relationships to Finnick.

Annie's too tired to sort all that out right now. Besides, it's dawning on her that even though she's only been here a few weeks, doesn't know anyone, and is afraid to leave this room, Cashmere's even newer here, and hostess duties have devolved on Annie.

She swallows back a burst of nausea. _I can't show you around, I can't!_

Instead, she slowly starts describing the place. Sanitary arrangements, the one spout of drinking water in the dining area, the common rooms where the engineers set up their labs. This deep in the shelter, there's only the one hall light, Annie explains, but they'll put lights in the rooms eventually. The rules about leaving the shelter only by night, and only with military authorization.

As she's telling Cashmere that she can ask for a room if she wants one, but Annie can't promise when one will be available, it starts to occur to her that maybe, just maybe, they can exchange favors.

It doesn't take long for them to work out an arrangement. Cashmere will bring Annie's food from the communal dining area. In return, Cashmere will get to sleep in Annie's room rather than in the lab space. She promises to ignore any crying or panicking from beside her.

"If I absolutely have to be alone, it's not because you did anything wrong. Sometimes I even have to kick Finnick out. But I'll try. I understand you don't want to sleep alone with strangers in a strange place. And not I'm much more than a stranger, but..."

Cashmere returns her smile. "Finnick said you were nice."

Despite their arrangement, Annie has to make one last trip to the common area. If she's being reasonable, she understands their caution, but she's silently fuming because she'd thought she'd finally not have to come here again.

"I'm authorizing Cashmere to get my ration for me. It makes my life a lot easier."

The server dispensing the food rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, it's fifty meters."

Annie fixes him with a gimlet eye. "Oh? And what year were you in the arena? I hadn't realized."

He glares, but hands her the porridge and fish without further comment.

Back in her room, Annie buries her face in her hands, shaking. "No one understands. You probably think I'm weak too."

"I-I cry for no reason," Cashmere confesses. "And I can't believe you talked back to him."

"The worst he could do was withhold food, and you were right there. I figured you could get a ration out of him. Sorry if that was putting you on the spot, but I didn't think he'd have the gall. And what do you mean, no reason?" Annie demands, outraged on Cashmere's behalf. "Like at your Flickerman interview, right before being put in the arena with your brother?"

"No, they told me to make sure I cried then, even though I was so numb it took all my training. But for no reason, sometimes. You'll see."

Annie remembers being told the same thing, to make sure she was falling apart during and after the Reaping, so she and Donn had an excuse to get away before the shooting started.

"Cashmere, if I see you crying, I'm going to assume you miss your brother, or you're worried about folks back home, or you're lonely, or that you have some other extremely good reason."

Cashmere is unconvinced. "You'll see," is all she says.

* * *

Little by little, they get more comfortable with each other.

They still tread carefully, trying to avoid any conflict, especially in a space this small. Cashmere doesn't want to be banished, and Annie finally feels like she has a tiny amount of control over her life, with someone to keep her from having to force herself outside twice a day.

It's such a relief that any time she starts wanting to be alone, she reminds herself that Cashmere is doing everything she asks. Even during her episodes, which surprises Annie more than anything so far.

The first time the fear becomes too much to handle, Annie has to remember her promise to try to let Cashmere stay through a meltdown, and she regrets making it. She curls herself into a ball on their makeshift bed and relives Evan's death, Mags' death, Finnick screaming her name and running through the landmines she was sure were going to take him out and it would be all her fault, Donn's death that she didn't even see, the firing of the Victors' Village that she slept through, and the Battle for Annie Cresta in Four that she woke to. She's no longer sure which parts she saw and which parts her broken brain is imagining.

It doesn't even matter, because all of these things have really happened, to someone, somewhere.

The cannons in the arena and the antiaircraft fire against the bombers, which to her are the same thing. Strong hands grabbing her, accompanied by frantic voices full of concern in words she can't understand, pulling her out from under the lab table that she's hidden herself beneath, wanting some sort of privacy from the staring eyes and whispers of strangers in this strange district. Peacekeepers dragging her to the Capitol, where she can watch them torture Finnick.

Annie can hear Cashmere's breathing behind her, and to her it's the loudest sound in the room, louder than her own sobbing gasps.

"Don't touch me," she screams, "don't touch me!" And she knows how mad she sounds, like she's yelling at hallucinations, but it's only that no one's ever not touched her by now.

Even Finnick at first, thinking he could hold her—trap her—and soothe her—lie to her!—by telling her she was safe, until she escaped and fled under the couch where he couldn't touch her.

Only she'd put on too much weight since coming out of the arena and she no longer fit under couches. She hated Mags then for feeding her up almost as much as she hated her for withholding food before she could make herself sick.

No couches here. This is why she starts clawing at the wall in the corner of the tiny niche she lives in now, wanting to dig an even tinier depression in it, one just small enough to crawl inside, one that won't fit Cashmere.

"I want Finnick," Annie cries in despair. She wants him sitting on the floor two feet away from her, his body like a wall shielding her, his voice telling her which of the pictures in her mind are real memories and which are the product of her fevered imagination, and his hands locked tightly together to resist the temptation of touching her. She wants him here so she can be sure that the land mines tearing him to pieces are in the future, not the past.

But there is only stillness from inside the room, steady breathing behind her and no hands on her.

Eventually, she falls asleep, drained utterly.

When Annie comes to, everything is quiet, the way she needs it. Nothing to react to until she can figure out what's what. Her limbs are too heavy to move, and she feels empty. Even a distant sound from outside inspires a only slight fluttering of her heart. She has the time to remember that it's probably from the common area. Just one of the engineers, not the Career pack. Not the Peacekeepers. Not Mags, jerking in the fog instead of Annie.

Her throat is swollen and her cheeks stiff from crying, and she has to clear her throat a couple times before she can speak. "Cashmere?"

"I'm here," the other woman answers instantly.

"Did I scare you?"

Cashmere answers with a question. "Did I do what you wanted?"

"Yeah," Annie says hoarsely. She half sits up in bed. "Is there water?"

She sips at the canteen Cashmere hands her and comes back to herself a little. "You're the only one. You didn't move or say anything or touch me. Everyone does the first time, and almost everyone keeps doing it." To be fair, when she first met Finnick, everything was still raw and new, and she wasn't matter-of-fact enough about her problems to explain these things up front.

"I was telling him-" Annie's voice trails off. She can't remember what she was telling him. "Is he here, or did I dream that?"

"Who?" Cashmere asks.

"Finnick."

"He's not here," Cashmere says. Her voice is flat, but Annie can't help reading in the _Oh shit, mad girl_ alert reaction she gets so often.

"Felt so real," Annie murmurs to herself. But it's fading. He hasn't been here in forever. "You don't have to stay, you know. If the crazy's too much."

But it's not too much for Cashmere. She stays. Every time after that, Annie can't even tell if Cashmere notices her roommate's having an episode. She must, in a hole in the wall that barely fits both of them! She only had to be told once, though, what to do and what not to do, and she follows orders to the letter.

If Cashmere cries, she does it when Annie's asleep. If she's bored, lonely, or going crazy with sitting in a dark room all day, she doesn't complain. Several times a day she goes out into the hall, only a few feet away, and does some exercises. Stretches, push-ups, running in place, that sort of thing. One night, one of the soldiers brings her some colorful straps, which Cashmere calls resistance bands. She tells Annie they're for strength training. Better than nothing, she says.

As grateful as she is for Cashmere being so easy to live with, Annie knows that not speaking up, not crying, and needing so desperately not to be alone and yet not in a crowd of strangers means that Cashmere's not doing so well. Besides, Annie, when she's not sleeping or going crazy inside her own head, thinks sitting in a dark room all day will drive _her_ crazy. More crazy.

So Annie works on breaking the ice as often as her own problems will let her. She uses what little she knows about Cashmere's background to try to guess what questions she'll be able to answer, and which ones will leave her staring blankly, trying to understand what it is you're asking. And if Cashmere can't answer, Annie makes a mental note and doesn't press.

"Is there anyone you're missing from home? Or were you put in the arena with anyone else you knew?"

Cashmere ignores the first question and chooses to answer the second. "In the arena, no, not really. Districts One and Two don't really mingle with the other districts much. I'd met Finnick a couple of times, but that was it. In Two, I knew Enobaria to speak to, but she didn't like me. And Brutus...I thought I knew him. We were occasional lovers. But my Reaping was before his, and he knew I was going in. And he still volunteered. Once we were in the Capitol, he said, um..." Cashmere bites her lip.

"You defected," Annie prompts, very gently, not pushing her.

"He said he was going to save me for last." Cashmere blurts out the words out all at once.

Annie fills in the blanks immediately. "Oh my god." She doesn't know how Cashmere feels about being touched, but Cashmere did hug her when they first met, so she risks leaning over and putting a quick, supportive arm around her shoulders, ready to withdraw it at a moment's notice.

Cashmere doesn't exactly return the hug, but she does lean into the embrace, inviting more. "I thought Finnick would kill me. I actually thought he was a bigger threat than Brutus and more likely to be the last one standing. But I thought he wouldn't humiliate me first, I'd just get caught in a trap or something and never know what hit me. It would be over quickly."

"Oh my god," is all Annie can say. The more she hears about Cashmere's life, the more she catches herself thinking she wouldn't trade.

"I didn't know Finnick was trying to get as many people as possible out alive. I didn't know!"

"What did you know about him?" Annie wonders. "You said you'd met him a couple of times?"

"He was on my list. But he didn't treat me like a slut. He made me feel like a-"

Here Cashmere breaks down, and Annie barely makes out the next wavering word.

 _Princess._

"See, I told you!" Cashmere bursts out in frustration through the tears. "I don't cry when I'm talking about watching Gloss die, I cry about someone being nice."

 _That's it. I_ _have_ _had it easier._ "Come cry on my shoulder, honey," Annie coaxes, aiming for Mags' best comforting tone. "Come here."

Cashmere lets herself be soothed in Annie's arms. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"No, the mad girl thinks you're perfectly sane. Did it ever occur to you that maybe you're crying not because someone was nice to you, but because it was so rare for someone to be nice?"

Cashmere makes a noncommittal sound. "Maybe. Penelope was nice. Like Finnick. Like you. She hugged me and got me to talk and told me I wasn't stupid. But other people, I always have to keep them from finding out I don't understand most of what's going on, so they'll keep being nice."

"You're not stupid. You were just trained for one thing only, and you're very good at it. Finnick said you were amazing when it came to hijacking trains and driving them across the country."

Cashmere smiles a little. "I just did what he told me."

"That's not what he said. Anyway, who's Penelope? Is she still around? Do you miss her?"

"Kind of. I mean, we haven't really talked in years, but that was because people were making fun of me for being friends with her, and I didn't want to get in trouble at the academy, because she didn't support it."

"Really?" Annie's interested immediately. "Do you think she'd support the revolution?"

"Oohh," Cashmere hesitates. "I don't know. I never even imagined not having Hunger Games. I only thought she wasn't up for mentoring. Penelope didn't really say anything I wasn't feeling, just that it was hard to be so strict and standoffish with the kids. It was hard! But I did it, because you have to. That's how you get victors."

"That's how you get people who cry when someone's nice to them and then think it's for no reason."

Cashmere doesn't know what to say to that. "Anyway, I hope Penny's okay."

"I'll mention her name to Finnick," Annie promises. "Unless...you already did?"

Cashmere shakes her head. "We had so little time to talk."

"I know," Annie commiserates. "He was here one night and gone the next day. I didn't even get the chance to tell him-" She hesitates. "Well, I might as well tell you. You'll find out, if I'm right. I haven't bled in almost three months, and I had gone off birth control before the Reaping. But on the other hand, I haven't had enough to eat, I'm losing weight, and I'm under a lot of stress."

Cashmere surprises Annie by turning efficient. "Let me see?"

The next thing she knows, as soon as she's given Cashmere permission, the other woman is gently prodding her in telltale places and asking a string of questions. When she's done, she shakes her head. "It's impossible for me to say for sure, but you don't have any of the signs I did, not one."

Annie gapes at her. " _You_ were pregnant? Did you have a baby, did you lose it, what happened? I'm sorry," she interrupts herself, reaching out to gently touch Cashmere's shoulder. "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand."

Cashmere just shrugs. "There's not much to talk about. I won the Hunger Games, so they wanted my genes. Gloss just had to give his sperm, but I had to carry two babies to term for my district as part of my duties as a victor. I don't know anything about where they went after I was delivered. Do they not do this in your dis-" She stammers, embarrassed. "I mean, you weren't a Career, so maybe they didn't want-I mean, you weren't what they were looking for when it came to victors-"

She's trying to backpedal against the implication that Annie's madness isn't something you'd want to breed for, but Annie's thinking along different lines altogether.

"Oh my god, they took away your babies?!" Annie hugs her and hugs her and doesn't let go. "Did they let you see them at all?"

Cashmere's unsure what all the fuss is about. "It would have been worse if they'd expected me to raise them. I couldn't even run my own life. I was falling apart. Both times, they just scheduled a surgery, sedated me, and when I woke up, that was it. No one told me if it was a boy or a girl, or what they named it, or what happened to it. I guess they're old enough to be at the academy, if they were accepted and if they didn't fail out. I haven't seen anyone who looks exactly like me or Gloss, if that's what you're asking."

"How old were you?" Annie whispers in horror.

"Nineteen, twenty. Was it _bad_?" she asks, nervous. Annie keeps being shocked by so many things that are utterly normal to her.

"I guess that depends." Annie's still bewildered. "Did you want to be pregnant?"

Cashmere shrugs again. "Well, it was an honor. They only want your genes if you make it really far at the academy. And this was just after I got my lists from President Snow, so I needed _some_ reassurance that I'd done something right. Are you upset?"

"Well, if you didn't mind...I suppose not. But in answer to your question, no we don't use people as breeding machines in Four! We give food to hungry children at the academy and try to give them some shot at surviving if they're reaped. We don't expect everyone to revolve their entire lives around making us look good in the Hunger Games. Not even Finnick went through anything like that."

"But I did that," Cashmere protests. "I did all the things you and Finnick keep objecting to, to the students at the academy and the tributes I mentored."

"You didn't know any better," Annie assures her. "You didn't come up with any of these ideas, and you only did what was done to you."

"You seem so angry," Cashmere says plaintively.

"I'm outraged. Being forced to get pregnant and then having your babies taken away? Even if you didn't object, you have been hurt, a lot."

"I do wish they'd explained things more," Cashmere confesses. "It was never knowing that made me so scared of getting things wrong. No one told me I was going to be impregnated until the time came, or how many babies I needed to carry, or whether I'd have to raise them, or anything. They could have at least told me what to expect. I would have cooperated."

"Oh, Cashmere. I'm not going to do that to you. I'm not trying to make you cooperate. If you want me to explain something, you can always ask."

Cashmere nods. "That's what Finnick said. He used to encourage me to ask questions, but he was always so busy, and when we were alone together...I just wanted to close my eyes and relax. But you have more time, and you've been explaining everything to me. It's so nice. I didn't know how nice until someone starting doing it for me."

"You can count on us. Ask all the questions you want, and don't feel embarrassed."

Cashmere concentrates hard, long enough for Annie to wonder if she's feeling pressured to think up questions, before she comes up with, "What about you? Do you have anyone at home you're missing or worried about? You mentioned a sister."

"Well, I worry about even the ones I don't miss, like my aunt and uncle. They may not have been exactly nice, but they took care of me, and I don't want them to die."

Annie talks about what it was like growing up in that house. Her aunt and uncle had three daughters, never four, and her last name was always Cresta, marking her as the outsider. "I never thought they'd kick me out for no reason, but I could tell they wished they could. So I walked on eggshells a lot, not to give them a reason.

"Any time we couldn't have something we needed, it was always because they were feeding an extra mouth that they didn't plan for. They tried to keep their own children from taking more than the bare minimum of tesserae, but when my turn came along, they started making up for lost time. My uncle kept saying it was safe, there'd be a volunteer, but...it wasn't safe enough for them to risk their own children that much!"

Cashmere says nothing. She's a better listener than talker. But Annie now wonders what you have to do to guarantee a volunteer. "Was it easier for families to risk the tesserae in your district?"

"They said it was," Cashmere answers. "They said that's why what we did was so important."

If there were some kinder way of keeping both the poorer kids fed and the athletic kids from being exploited...but no, that's absurd. There's no kindness to the Hunger Games.

Cashmere casts around for a cheerier topic. "You have a fur coat?"

"Oh, yes." Annie smiles involuntarily at the improvised hook in the wall. "Finnick gave it to me, the only thing he ever brought me from the Capitol. It used to be really gorgeous, but it's had a rough life since the fighting broke out. It's the only thing I have from home. It was always more of a comfort object than a luxury object for me, and with Mags and Finnick in the arena, I was crying myself to sleep and had no one to hold. So I was wearing it when the Peacekeepers came for me and Rudder dragged me unconscious out of my bed. Crazy story, I know."

"It's a nice story. Well-" Cashmere interrupts herself, embarrassed.

"As nice as stories like that get," Annie says. "It's all right, I know what you mean. And it is. What about you, do you have anything from home? They let you bring a token from your district, right?"

Cashmere shakes her head. "Not in District One. We wear sponsor gifts. Mine was a sapphire pendant. When I woke up on the hovercraft, it was gone."

"Really?" Annie starts wishing she knew Cashmere well enough to make her something with sentimental value. Maybe someday.

* * *

Cashmere's glad when, after a couple of weeks, Annie starts stretching her legs in the hall while Cashmere runs through her exercise routine. Sometimes she puts on the fur coat Finnick gave her, to help her get up the courage to leave the room. It's not much exercise, but Annie says it makes her feel a little better.

It makes Cashmere feel like she's done something right, that Annie's comfortable with this arrangement. Now she'll have something good to report to Finnick next time she sees him.

But she's having a hard time keeping up her stamina here. She's barely started her routine and she's already feeling tired. This isn't good. How is she supposed to protect Annie if she's atrophying this fast?

Cashmere closes her eyes and summons up more willpower.

"What is that smell?" Annie's question catches Cashmere's attention, and she realizes Annie is sniffing at something.

Cashmere doesn't know, but if there's one thing the academy and two arenas have taught her, it's that it's better to act fast and look stupid, than to die gathering all the facts. There's already a commotion breaking out in the front of the bunker.

She grabs Annie by the shoulder and starts herding her toward their room. "Just in case," she says under her breath, and Annie takes her meaning at once.

Maybe it's just an accident in the workroom, some chemical that got spilled, but Cashmere hoists Annie onto her shoulders in their room. Annie hauls herself into a small hideaway they dug into the ceiling. If you don't look too closely, you might not notice it in the dark. Annie wanted it; Cashmere made it happen.

Trying to help push Annie's last leg up, Cashmere staggers, light-headed. Thoughts are fleeing her mind, and she has trouble remembering her plan to pull the curtain shut as she leaves the room.

Crawling down the hallway toward the source of the smell, because there's only the one exit, she tugs on another couple of curtains hanging in front of empty rooms, making it look like people just close their curtains when they leave their room, keeping Annie's from standing out.

If this is a raid, they're coming from the entrance. But she has nowhere else to go. And if the chemical is poisonous, she needs to drag herself out into the fresh air.

Cashmere forgets where she was going. She can't see. She hears a shout. Then, nothing.

* * *

Annie doesn't know what's her nightmare and what's real. She never does. But she's fighting to wake up, and she can't. It's like drowning. The floodwaters of her arena keep crashing over her head, only this time, no matter what she does, she can't break through to the surface.

Gas masks. Running feet. Slamming doors. Explosions. The Battle for Annie Cresta.

Cashmere, Cashmere's out there somewhere.

Annie swims harder.

At last she emerges gasping, pushing through the fog in her mind.

Her shoulders are tight. Annie realizes she's still rolling them like she's trying to swim. But everything is sluggish and heavy.

Did she have to be sedated? Was she blindly attacking everyone around her again?

"I hate being mad," Annie murmurs.

But it's wearing off. Soon she's able to scramble to her hands and knees and look around. She doesn't know where she is, but she can tell it's indoors. Some kind of dim room. There are bodies lying on the ground all around her.

Annie's heart races. She regrets sitting up. _Lie down, pretend to be dead too._ In the dim light, she can make out guards standing at attention and holding guns. She can't make out their uniforms.

She's supposed to use her suicide pill if she's captured. She knows too much.

Quietly, Annie lies down again, hoping no one noticed her movement, and strains her ears.

It's too late for Cashmere to save her. Not even she can take on a dozen trained soldiers by herself.

"Where are we? What are we doing here?" It's the slurred voice of one of the women lying near Annie. Annie can hear her trying to sit up.

"Hush," one of the guards calls in an undertone. "Keep your voice down."

Annie almost faints again from relief. That's a Four accent. Still, she doesn't move. There must be enemy soldiers lurking nearby.

The door opens, letting more light in. "We're going to have to move them soon. We can't wait for nightfall."

That's Rudder! Where's Cashmere? Annie can't resist lifting her head and looking around at the bodies, searching for her friend. Alive or dead? Free or captured?

"They're just starting to come to."

"Triage and carry," Rudder orders. "Sandpiper. Jewel." More incomprehensible words.

Where's Cashmere? These must be the engineers from the bunker. Annie's brain is slowly warming up again.

If Rudder's here, it must be safe to at least look around quickly, while there's light.

One of the soldiers comes striding in the direction of the spread out bodies. Blue uniform. Annie keeps looking. Long hair, blonde hair. Tall. Big-boned.

There! Annie starts crawling. There are too many bodies in her way, and she's clumsy at climbing over them without crushing them.

Hands grab her just as she reaches Cashmere.

Only the memory of Evan keeps her scream in her head. Reacting on instinct, she throws herself to the ground, wraps her arms around Cashmere. _Anchor yourself to something,_ Cashmere's voice says in her memory, _make it hard for them to move you. If you can't fight them, buy yourself time._

"Come on!" a biting voice says directly into her ear. "You're not safe here."

Annie starts shaking Cashmere. _Come on, wake up! Wake up!_

"We'll come back for her!" he says impatiently. "Do you want to be captured?"

Slowly, reason starts to penetrate. She isn't being kidnapped, she's being rescued. (It feels much the same.) And if she wants to live, she has to leave Cashmere behind.

Cashmere saved her life.

Finnick asked Cashmere to protect her.

Everyone's always dying to protect Annie.

Who will die if she's captured?

"When is she going to wake up?" Annie demands, tripping over her thick tongue.

"I have orders to get you out of here." Those hands are stronger than she is, especially in her current condition, and they're prying her off Cashmere and hauling her up over a shoulder.

Still she tries to wrestle free. "I can walk. Carry her."

They're still fighting when Rudder comes over to see what the holdup is. "Rudder-" Annie pleads, looking up from her struggles to meet his eye. "I can walk."

He looks down at Cashmere's body, up at Annie, and over at the soldier who's trying to carry Annie. He makes a command decision. "Take her."

Annie doesn't know whether her having a bodyguard is so important, or whether it's just victors sticking together, and if so whether it's her or Cashmere who's getting the special treatment, but she sighs out a heavy and heartfelt "Thank you." She shoves out of her mind the nameless, faceless engineer who will have to die in Cashmere's place. In the arena, everyone has to die so you can live.

Annie's legs are surprisingly rubbery, but if it means Cashmere gets to live, she can hobble along and prop herself up against the wall as they exit. The ladder is rough, but with a soldier behind her to steady her, she makes it.

She climbs out of a basement and emerges into a house with shattered windows and no door in the doorway.

The soldiers carry unconscious engineers out into a waiting truck. It's closed on top, which makes Annie feel safe. No one will see her in here. She climbs into the very back and they drop off Cashmere's body next to her. Cashmere still doesn't respond to shaking, so Annie pulls her head onto her lap and holds on.

In the back of the truck, next to the open doors, the only fully conscious engineer is arguing with the soldier standing guard outside. "Tell us what happened! Why do I have marks on my wrists?"

"I don't know what I'm authorized to tell."

"Oh, come on, I've got a higher security clearance than you."

"Civilian, not military, ma'am."

"I have access to military communications!"

Annie just wants everyone to be quiet, and Cashmere to wake up.

"Pull out, pull out!"

Quickly, there's a mad dash toward the back of the truck, everyone piles in, and the engine roars to life.

Annie plugs her ears so she can't hear the gunfire and the explosions. She's too awake now.

More and more engineers are starting to wake up.

"Who made it?" a shrill male voice demands. "Who was left behind?"

They start doing a roll call. No one calls Annie's name. Cashmere is stirring in her lap, and Annie starts shaking her with enthusiasm.

Still without a sound; she knows too well how easy it is to give away a hiding place and wishes everyone would _shut up_!

Hysteria is rising. She can't hear Rudder's voice. If he were here, he'd do something about it.

Annie helps Cashmere into a sitting position. She can barely hear her murmur, "What happened?"

"Ssshh," she whispers back.

Cashmere, blessedly, doesn't make a sound after that. She holds on to Annie and Annie holds on to her, through the mad, bumpy ride.

Her arms tighten suffocatingly around Cashmere's chest when the truck lurches to a sickening halt, off balance. Annie knows one of the back tires has been taken out. Is the truck armored? Are they safe in here?

Someone throws up. Now the inside of the truck smells like vomit. Annie's stomach churns in sympathy, but she has experience holding her gorge down in the face of worse than this.

One shouted order and the soldiers are piling out of the vehicle again. There's not enough room for everyone to press themselves flat to the bottom as the gunfire reports echo outside, but everyone tries. Cashmere covers Annie with her body.

It's loud outside, louder than the cannons, and unlike them, it doesn't stop.

Annie thinks of the trees snapping and falling, pushed over by the flood, but this is worse. Even when she shoves her fingertips so far into her ears her eardrums are in danger, she can feel the vibrations through the metal beneath her.

Finally, it's silent. Or, not silent, but the shooting has stopped. There's pained screaming coming from outside, and altogether too much panicked shrieking from inside. Annie hates being a helpless civilian, but at least she knows how not to make things worse.

Then the soldiers start pulling the civilians out. This time, Annie has some warning, and she manages to crawl on her own behind Cashmere, the very last to emerge from the truck. Immediately, she breathes the sea air and has to remind herself that she's not home.

They get herded, impatiently, to the shore. It's only about three hundred yards, but it takes them forever, wobbling. It's the first time Annie's seen the ocean since...since she came from District Four.

Out to sea, she can see a ship.

"That's as near as it can come," Rudder's voice explains. "There aren't enough boats. If you can swim, swim. If you can't, a boat is coming, and we'll row it. We may have to make more than one trip."

"They've been gassed," one of the soldiers dares to protest. "They'll drown."

"If you can swim but would rather stay here, make sure you have your suicide pill with you, or take someone else's if you don't. No one? Okay."

Annie knows she can swim when she's weak from hunger and petrified with fear. She can't swim very long, but she can stay alive. So it stands to reason that she should be able to swim when she's recovering from this gas.

Her mind goes blank while she swims. She doesn't think about anything except the water enveloping her and holding her up, and the taste of salt, and looking over her shoulder to make sure Cashmere's keeping up.

Her fur coat is heavy with water, but she thinks she'll leave it on. If she does drown, it'll be nothing more than she owes the tributes from Three who died because she could swim and they couldn't, or whoever died in that basement because she insisted Cashmere be saved instead.

But she doesn't think she will.

What defeats her is climbing the rope ladder to the deck of the ship when she arrives. The swim and the gas have left all her limbs trembling, and the water is cold. Her fingers are stiff when someone throws a rope and she ties it around her waist, but even her stiff fingers can tie a simple knot. The bruising and chafing from being dragged up over the side of the ship will stay with her a long time.

She hopes so. Days, weeks, months...you can only be in pain if you're alive.

One of the sailors tries escorting her below decks, but Annie shakes her head and watches the water for Cashmere.

Only once they're both to safety does Annie take Cashmere's hand and hobble below with her.

There, they're given warm, dry things to change into, but Annie's still clinging to her waterlogged fur coat. "Don't let them take it away," she whispers to Cashmere. It's hard to remember that it's safe to talk now.

Finally, the ship weighs anchor and pulls away. Annie's hungry now, and exhausted, and she just wants to sleep and drown out the screaming in her head. She hasn't panicked yet; but it'll hit her soon. No privacy here.

She wraps her arms around Cashmere and buries her mounting scream in her shoulder. Finnick would have known to hold perfectly still, and not pat her on the back until she gives him permission, but Cashmere's going slow and steady, and Annie's too tired to object. Maybe it's soothing after all.

It's hard to say how much time passes before Rudder finally joins them. He stands facing the group, getting everyone's attention with his silent scrutiny, until finally he starts to speak. With the first quiet word, everyone immediately stops to listen.

"The location of your bunker was compromised. We can't tell exactly what happened, but perhaps a drone dropped off a gas canister at the entrance shortly afterward. The canister seems to have been motion activated. Everyone in the bunker lost consciousness when the door opened. The gas must have been non-toxic, since all of you are worth something alive.

"Four and Capitol forces arrived at much the same time. We were able to rescue most of you as they were taking you captive, and take you to unsecured building nearby as a temporary hiding place. I don't have casualty or POW lists yet, but we're working on those.

"This ship was summoned to carry you to another bunker. We've been working on that one for a while. It'll eventually be more defensible than the one you just came from."

Someone interrupts this hypnotically matter-of-fact delivery. "Is that the one near the power plant?"

"It is," Rudder confirms. "We were always intending to relocate you there. This is just a little sooner. We attempted to rescue everyone from the basement, but the fact that almost everyone was unconscious made that impossible. There were Three and Four casualties. I hope to have the details for you soon."

"I can get you the names of the missing right now!" someone yells. "We can do the math." And he rattles off a list of names, fast and furious.

"As to that, I have good news." Rudder is unflustered by the accusatory tone. "Shannon was not in the bunker when the attack began. She should be safe and alive."

That appeases them just a little. Annie feels bad but doesn't know any of them.

"Annie Cresta." Rudder's voice saying her name grabs her attention through the exhaustion. "Next time you build a secret hideaway within a hideaway, tell someone in the military. It saved you from the first round of prisoner-taking, and it shielded you from the worst of the gas. But we only knew to look for you because I happened to know your face and notice it was missing, and the searching cost us precious time."

Annie nods, her throat dry. "Yes, sir."

"That's all. We should arrive in a matter of hours, depending on the weather. We'll get you more news when we have it."

The thing that relieves Annie the most, when her feet touch dry ground, is that Cashmere has recovered and is back to herself. They've been given a bit of food and water, and slept a bit, but in some ways Annie feels worse than ever, and she's glad to have Cashmere taking care of her again.

Cashmere asks for a gun, and gets one. She stays with the soldiers bringing up the rear, where she can keep Annie in her line of vision. Annie would find it more comforting if she could see Cashmere, but she appreciates that her bodyguard really seems to know what she's doing.

She asks Annie to keep her hood up over her head, even damp, so no one recognizes her as they walk. _I should have thought of that._

She gives quiet orders to the civilians, which kind of shocks Annie, who's used to Cashmere asking permission to open her mouth. But she's in her element. Even the resentment in some of their faces doesn't move her.

But the moment they're inside the new bunker, Cashmere subsides out of crisis mode and waits for someone to tell her what to do. Annie's in charge again. Ignoring everyone else, she nudges Cashmere into walking in front, while Annie follows behind and looks for a place to sleep.

The new shelter is bigger and better structured than the old one, but less wired. There's tarp on the ground as flooring, covering the dirt. The roof is lower, but the structure extends deeper, with more rooms and better structure. Some of the walls even feel like plaster.

Annie likes the lower ceiling. Cashmere's head almost brushes it, and she has to duck to enter the room Annie motions her to, but it makes Annie feel less exposed.

There's not even a makeshift bed, but Annie falls without ceremony to the floor, and Cashmere joins her. Tomorrow they can figure out the logistics. Tonight they simply lie pressed close together, clinging and grateful to be alive.


	4. Chapter 4

The new room isn't much better than the old, but Annie starts seeing it as home, as much as anything is home these days. It's not so much that it's rather bigger, or comes with better bedding—blankets and bath towels instead of scraps of castoff clothes—or has a small battery-operated light. It's the door that makes her feel safer.

She's the one who installed it. In fact, she demonstrated the installation of the doors to the watching engineers. The doors that were stripped from abandoned buildings were too tall for the low doorways of this bunker. It was Annie who demonstrated efficient use of a saw and the repositioning of the upper hinge. She's used to taking parts that don't fit and making them fit.

She has to keep opening it for ventilation, but just the option of a barrier between her and the outside world eases some of Annie's ever-present tension.

She and Cashmere spend a lot of time chatting and mending clothes, because even with bad days more frequent than good, Annie can't bear to sit around all day with nothing to do. So she's started taking in sewing. Cashmere, who's learned the basics from Annie, helps her.

Every time someone passes by, Annie freezes. Noticing this, Cashmere pauses in her sewing and looks watchfully out the door until they're gone, then back to Annie. Annie finds this ritual remarkably reassuring.

If Finnick were here, he'd be more chatty, calling them over and not letting them stay strangers. Annie finds she doesn't mind either style. Now that she's seen Cashmere in action, Annie trusts her every bit as much, and needs her more. She could see Finnick spending an afternoon sitting her with her, busy with his hands, but his restlessness would always drive him away again. Cashmere stays.

Annie would wonder if she minds, but she has the strong impression Cashmere's also afraid of strangers, for different reasons. So here they stay, each other's company and shield.

She's also discovering that she finds Cashmere's body comforting in the same way she does Finnick's. Not touching her, but just close enough to make itself felt. Just enough of a barrier between her and everything that could hurt her that she can let go of a tiny bit of her fear.

When someone stops at their door, Cashmere rises protectively, but doesn't say anything. Annie's on her own when it comes to making decisions.

"Annie Cresta?"

"That's me," Annie acknowledges.

"Beetee has just arrived from District Thirteen and has news for you."

"Tell him he's welcome to come down here."

The man shakes his head. "He can't. Enobaria got him in the spine. He can't walk. You'll have to go up to him."

"He's above ground?" Annie's voice shakes. Even if this isn't a trap to lure her out, it's dangerous.

"No, we can't risk him above ground. He's in a room just off the common area. But this is the very deepest part of the bunker, and the ground's too broken for him to get down here."

Finnick would have had a plan by now, probably one that would involve coaxing her out, but Cashmere just stands silently, waiting for orders.

Reluctantly she agrees, but she gestures to Cashmere to walk in front. If it's a trap, then the enemy knows where she is, and she's probably not much safer down here than up there.

Only on the way does it occur to Annie that she could have asked for the news in writing, but they're almost there, and she'd be too embarrassed to turn back now.

 _It's probably safe_ , she reasons, and then, _Cashmere's here._

The ground is pretty broken and littered with debris, not something she'd really noticed before. It's a makeshift bomb shelter, not a well-designed community.

Beetee's waiting in a wheelchair. Her mind on Finnick, Annie thinks of his mother, both legs damaged, hobbling stubbornly around on crutches because the wheelchair her son bought with his winnings was 'tainted.' She's glad Beetee gets a choice.

Annie sits down across from Beetee. Cashmere stands at her shoulder, on duty. Beetee glances up at her, then away. In his eyes are a memory of Gloss killing Wiress, and Enobaria getting past Cashmere's guard to stab him a second time.

 _It's not her fault_ , Annie wants to say. Cashmere's a good fighter, but she wasn't at her best that night. As if being devastated over Gloss, hoping for a quick death, and not knowing about the plan and expecting a knife in the back from Beetee at any moment, weren't bad enough, she kept glancing over at the fight going on to her right, ready to help Finnick at a moment's notice. _Enobaria didn't give a damn about anyone in the arena._

"You saw Finnick?" Annie opens.

Beetee nods. "The details are top secret. All I can say is that he's shuttling all over Panem, working to solve the food problem. The food's in the southeast and midwest. We're in the west. In between are our enemies."

Annie knows just enough of the map Finnick spent years collecting to follow this summary. "A delivery came through a few days ago."

"Another one came with me," Beetee tells her. "We're on the verge of a breakthrough. I've been working on communications. In Thirteen, trying to get control of television broadcasts across the country. Now I'm here working on different projects. I can't give you many military details, but one project that directly impacts you is that we're fortifying this bunker. One of my jobs is to make sure we'll be able to communicate with the outside world safely even when we're in lockdown."

"And how are things in Four?" Annie asks. "Pearleye's still in charge?"

"She is," Beetee confirms. "From what I understand, they're battling to hold onto the coast, and there have been a lot of casualties, but they have a good enough antiaircraft defense set up that the Capitol hasn't been able to bomb them out of existence."

Mags' plan is working, then. So far. "Do they—we—have hovercraft of our own?"

"I can't say," Beetee says. It's ambiguous enough that Annie can't tell whether he doesn't know, or that's classified information. She doesn't press. "I can say that Finnick was alive, in good health, and highly energetic when I last saw him."

Annie slumps against the back of her chair. "Thank you."

"I wasn't expecting to see you. He said he usually passes through Three without stopping. I suppose that's to keep anyone from suspecting you're here."

 _Oh, Finnick_. He's still trying to make up for losing his head in the arena. And before that, whatever led the Gamemakers to know it was her voice they needed the jabberjays copying.

 _Come home, Finnick. Someone needs to tell you it's not your fault._

* * *

The next time Finnick lets himself stop in Three, Annie's in a new shelter. Hearing the story almost gives him a heart attack, but she made it, so he forces himself to shove his fear for her to the back of his mind.

She isn't safe. There's nothing he can do about that except fight harder. But now he's here, and he can stop fighting for a few days and see her.

In the shelter, Finnick's guided to another closet-like room that's just as far away from the entrance as the last room. That's good, it means she got to choose it.

Unlike the last one, it has a door, but the door startles him by swinging open at a touch.

Inside, Cashmere comes quickly to her feet, but Annie just twitches a little. The sound of her heavy breathing and a glance at her still form show him that she's sleeping more deeply than usual.

Finnick hesitates, watching Cashmere's face while he gives her a broad, nonthreatening smile. He won't come in if she isn't comfortable with him.

At the same time, Cashmere is studying him closely, her face so much a mirror of his that he only stops his laugh because he doesn't want her reading the wrong meaning into it.

Finally her expression brightens, and she takes a large step forward into the hallway and throws her arms around him.

"You're back, you're back!" Cashmere whispers, squeezing tight enough to take his breath away. "Do you want to wake Annie?"

Finnick breathes a sigh. He's still not sure she's not afraid of him, but not being mad at him is a good start. "What do you think? I'm staying for a few days, so we can let her sleep a little longer if you think that's a good idea."

"She's been having a lot of trouble sleeping." Cashmere offers.

Finnick nods. "Is there some place we can go to catch up, then?"

Cashmere gestures to the door next to Annie's. "That's my room, technically."

It's small, but it has a light. They move around brooms and buckets and other odds and ends to make room to sit on the floor. "I'm never in here," Cashmere apologizes. "I'm always with Annie."

Something unknots in Finnick's shoulders. "You're getting along, then?" he asks, while looking at the gloves he's stuffing inside a bucket, and only watching the outlines of her body language out of the corner of his eye.

Cashmere nods enthusiastically. "She's really nice to me. She talks to me, answers all my questions, tells me things, and makes sure I don't have to be alone."

Finnick sits down first, letting her have the tactical upper hand. "Tell me how things have been, then."

He grins when Cashmere immediately uses her tactical upper hand to fold herself onto his lap and get comfortable. "We're still snuggle buddies?" Finnick teases out of sheer relief from all the ways he's lain awake at night imagining this reunion might go. Then he wants to kick himself, because this isn't just anyone, this is Cashmere. Sitting on his lap might be nothing more than a survival instinct, one he knows all too well.

"I'm a snuggle bunny," she teases back. "And it looks like I'm not the only one."

Finnick laughs. "Yes, I guess I am." He runs his fingers through her hair, careful not to disturb the tiny braids interspersed in the long waves. "I heard you had to evacuate the last shelter? You weren't hurt?"

Cashmere shakes her head. "After the gas wore off-"

"Gas?!" Finnick starts gasping. It's Mags all over again, and not being able to breathe, that insidious fog on his skin, in his lungs, in his eyes, jerking and twitching, his body not obeying and it _always_ obeys-

"Finnick! It's okay, it wore off!"

Finnick closes his eyes, and reminds himself as hard as he can that Annie and Cashmere are here and in one piece, and it's not like Mags at all. "You're sure? No lingering effects?"

"No," Cashmere says firmly. "They just wanted to capture us so they could question us later. And Annie and I hid her as far away as possible, she didn't breathe as much as anyone else."

Of course. It's just his paranoia. There are no lingering effects.

"Anyway, I did my best to take care of Annie. She's not an athlete or a killer, but she's very tough."

"Of course she is, and I'm glad you were with her," Finnick says warmly, then changes the subject as quickly as he can. "How about you, are you okay here? If you're miserable, bored, lonely, can't stand to spend one more minute around Annie, I want to know that. There won't be any consequences except finding you a better situation. And I'll be asking Annie for her opinion of how you've been doing, so don't bother telling me what you think I want to hear."

"No, no," Cashmere assures him. "I like Annie, and I want her to be safe."

"So do I, but not at the expense of making you unhappy. Is it better or worse here for you than Thirteen?"

Cashmere hesitates, and Finnick tries to guess why.

"I'm not asking if you like me or Annie better. I'm asking about the situation, how safe you feel, how other people are treating you."

"No, it's better here," Cashmere says quickly. "I asked Rudder for a firearm during the evacuation, and he's made sure I've had one ever since."

Finnick silently gives thanks to his old mentor. For the rest, he'll just have to ask Annie. Cashmere's still trying not to say the wrong thing.

When he doesn't say anything more, she doesn't either. She only watches him, and waits, and waits, until finally he can feel her start to relax by degrees in his arms. Even then, it's only a minute before she catches herself and jolts upright, knocking a broom to the side with her elbow. "Is this—allowed?" She steadies the tottering broom.

Finnick keeps an arm reassuringly across her shoulders, without pressing her. "Do you want to sit here until Annie wakes up?"

"Only if it's within the rules," Cashmere says firmly. "I don't want to let anyone down."

"Did she say anything about not being comfortable with this?"

Cashmere shakes her head. "She said she didn't mind. But people always say things that aren't true and expect you to understand they're just being nice, and I always get it wrong."

Finnick laughs. "Not Annie. If there's one thing you can count on her for, it's honesty about her boundaries. It's up to you, honey, whatever you're comfortable with."

Still she hesitates. "I promised I wouldn't be clingy."

"And I promised you honesty. I missed you. I have found no one else in the world, not even Annie, who likes being held as much as I do. That's why I held back for so long, sugar, I couldn't believe you weren't just being compliant."

Slowly, Cashmere leans in close again and wraps him in her arms. "I couldn't believe you weren't just taking pity on me. I haven't found anyone who doesn't want anything from me that I'm not capable of. I've always...I've always never been like other people."

"You've had an unusual life," Finnick reminds her. "There's no one I would trust more with Annie. I sleep better knowing you're with her. You've had my back from the beginning. You saved Gale's life. You picked up so many skills it made me dizzy. You were with Annie through the evacuation. I couldn't have gotten the trains into District Three without you."

Cashmere doesn't relax all at once, but by degrees, like a bud opening to expose the petals hidden within. Finnick finds he still loves, more than anything, the feel of her fear melting into trust. So he gives himself and Cashmere this respite from the pressures and problems of the rest of the world. For tonight, it's just the two of them, giving and receiving comfort.

He tries out every endearment he can think of, and watches her body language. Some, like "doll" and "peach", cause her to tense slightly, and Finnick's careful not to go back to those. But "angel," "kitten," and "princess" are some of her favorites, and she gasps out loud when he calls her his sunshine.

"But that's what I call _you_! Sitting here is likely accidentally finding my way out of a maze into the daylight, not knowing how I got here, and having to soak it up before it goes away again."

Finnick groans into her shoulder. "I meant it, angel. If you're too lonely, you're not stuck here. You can come with me and help solve problems if you'd rather. We'll work something else out for Annie."

"I want her to be safe, though." Cashmere looks torn. "Is District One still not...an option?"

"I'm sorry."

Cashmere nods, accepting it.

That just makes Finnick feel more horrible. "I'm really trying not to keep you prisoner. If it were just you and me, I'd let you go home. But you're high-profile, you defected publicly, they tortured Johanna, they tortured Peeta, I strongly suspect they tortured Enobaria, and they'll torture you even if you go back with the full intent of supporting their cause."

If she were anyone else, he could help smuggle her over the border to lie low, but her face is too recognizable. Maybe something could be done to disguise her, but the costs are so high that Finnick's going to wait until she asks.

"I know," Cashmere tells him. "You explained."

"But you were hoping something had changed. I'm sorry it hasn't, but I'm glad you asked."

"It still feels weird," Cashmere tells him. "Being able to ask. Almost wrong. But I'm getting more used to it. Annie likes it, I think. She says she likes having someone to talk to, the more questions the better."

Knowing them both, Finnick thought they'd get along when he devised this arrangement, but it's always difficult to predict how two human beings will interact. He kisses Cashmere's temple, making her smile. "That's wonderful. Did she do your hair?"

"She's good with her hands."

Finnick's not bad with his, and he gives her the best comfort he can, the soothing caresses that let her fall back into a peaceful silence where she doesn't have to worry. "Nothing to get right or wrong," Finnick murmurs, "no need to perform. No problems to solve. No being alone. Just sunshine to bask in."

Cashmere gives a quiet moan of contentment, which Finnick echoes. He's talking as much to himself as he is to her.

Annie's knocking is what alerts Finnick to the fact that he dropped off while sitting up, still wrapped up in Cashmere. He doesn't know how long he slept.

"Cashmere, are you all r...Finnick? I didn't know you were here!"

"You were sleeping," Finnick explains hastily, "and we didn't want to wake you."

"You'd hardly slept for days," Cashmere adds.

"I know sleep is precious," Finnick says, speaking of both Annie and him.

Then he's in her arms, held tight, clinging to someone who understands him and knows him inside and out.

"Do you need privacy?" Cashmere asks.

Annie laughs, choking a little, and answers for him. "Judging by the fact that Finnick is actually crying, I'm going to go ahead and answer yes."

A few minutes later, he's stretched out in bed beside her, burying his tears in the crook of her shoulder.

"None of this should have been necessary. You shouldn't have to be in hiding, I shouldn't have to go months without seeing you, or if so it should be because I'm not in Four..."

"Finnick, it might have been necessary anyway. Or at least the best strategy. A lot of people are being hidden away here, and none of them your fault. Including me."

"Well, if Evan was your fault, you must be my fault."

Annie narrows her eyes and pokes him in the side with her finger. "I see where you're going with this, and I don't like it."

"So is your situation my fault?"

"You came running to save me. I just gave him away and wasn't prepared to do anything for him at all."

"We both lost our heads. I had training and should have known better. You didn't sign up for any of this."

"Well, all right, maybe it's your fault too."

"Annie!" Finnick lifts his head to look at her. "That's not where I was going with that."

"I know, I was supposed to say the opposite. But even if it's not your fault, I can see why you're so convinced it is."

Finnick sighs. "God, this whole thing is so messed up. Anyway, I'm being selfish, how are you holding up?"

"I don't know," Annie groans. "I don't have my medication, I don't know anyone here, I can't stop dreaming about you...and Mags and Evan and Donn. Even when I'm awake, I can't stop watching you die in my head. Now I watch Cashmere dying to protect me too. I guess the food situation has gotten better."

All Finnick can do is lie down again and put his head back on her shoulder. "I suppose encouraging you to get out more and get to know people is one of those things that would help you feel better, if only you felt good enough to get out and meet people."

"Something like that," Annie agrees. "You're so trainable."

"Do you eat with them at all?"

"Cashmere gets my food," she admits.

"Has anyone said anything?" He's prepared to go out blazing in her defense if anyone has.

"Not any more than people usually do when they don't understand. But if I go out there, and I have a meltdown...people never react well. You were the only one I ever trusted with my meltdowns."

"Cashmere?"

"Cashmere does exactly what I want, which is not react. But if there were a bunch of strangers around, could she keep them from reacting? I really don't think so."

Finnick can't disagree. "Dammit, I wish I could help. I guess I can get an early breakfast or late dinner with you, but that's all. I'm officially in District Three because Rudder needs my help, not because I'm visiting you, so I have to be seen working for him during the day. I can spend nights here, that's all. But I do want to get to know these people you're living with. For my own peace of mind."

"I'll try?"

"My brave Annie." Finnick hugs her and presses his face to the side of her head. "How's it working out with you and Cashmere? Do you feel safe with her?"

Annie's lips tighten. "I feel bad for her. For exploiting her. She has a hundred other more enjoyable ways she could be spending her time besides hanging around making me feel better."

"But she does make you feel better?" Finnick presses. The self-disgust in Annie's voice worries him, but then it's no different than when she talks about Evan.

"She does," Annie concedes. "She's wonderful. You were right; she's not scary at all. To me. If I were a Peacekeeper, I'd be afraid to mess with her."

"The perfect combination," Finnick says with a slight smile. "That's why I thought it might work."

"Too perfect," Annie tells him. "Too accommodating, if you know what I mean."

Finnick does. "Does she seem unhappy here?"

Annie has to think about that one. "She's unhappy," Annie begins, feeling her way through this. "I'm not sure if it's more than she would be anywhere else, though. Her brother, and the arena, and her life before then...of course she's unhappy. So am I. But as for the situation...there are good parts and bad parts, and that would be true of anyone. I can't really make that call for her." Annie pauses. "She misses you."

That stirs mixed feelings in Finnick. "Does that mean she doesn't hate me?"

Annie shakes her head. "Unless I'm very far off the mark, she's head over heels and trying not to show it."

Finnick grunts. "I thought that might be the case. It'll pass. It always does."

"Maybe," Annie says. "Anyway, if she hasn't secretly told you she can't stand the crazy girl, we'll leave the arrangement the way it is?"

"I'll tell you what I told her," Finnick says. "I sleep better knowing you two have each other."

* * *

Annie wishes she could sleep at all. Without her sedatives, her sleep is plagued with the same horrific dreams night after night. She knows she needs the rest, she wants to make the most of every minute she has with Finnick before he has to leave again, and she knows the nightmares aren't real, but the prospect of reliving terrors that were once real, is enough to have her shuddering at the thought of sleep.

She lies on her side, resolutely counting fish in hopes that tonight she'll be spared, and half-wishing Finnick were having one of his own insomniac nights. Selfish of her, but at least they could keep each other company.

But no, as always Finnick's insomnia is better when she's here. Annie can't begrudge him that, not when he'll be alone again so soon.

Watching him sleep, hoping that maybe her affection will prove stronger than her anxiety, Annie sees him twitch. Tenderly, she runs her fingertips from temple to jaw, hoping to soothe him. Finnick stills briefly, then bolts upright in bed beside her, gasping.

At once, Annie sits up with him. "Just a dream," she murmurs, "just a dream." When she's sure that he's heard her voice and knows it's her, she leans forward against his back, patting and soothing. She doesn't ask any questions or make any demands, simply gives him touch and warmth while he takes the time he needs to come back to himself.

"I was in the arena," Finnick finally begins unsteadily. "I was killing Sheer. But when I went to look at the body, it was Cashmere."

"Oh, Finnick." Annie presses her cheek to his shoulder. "She's here. She's safe."

"I've never had a nightmare about my first Hunger Games. A lot of dreams, yes, very intense, bloody, sometimes unpleasant...but never a nightmare. I hardly ever have nightmares at all. But now I can't stop thinking, what if she was a sweetheart?"

"And if she wasn't, then it's okay, she deserved to die?" Annie asks very gently.

"Of course not," Finnick admits. "I knew that the first time around, and I never lost sleep over it. But now I know that her volunteering wasn't as voluntary as you might think. Does Cashmere talk about her at all? I haven't dared to ask."

"She has," Annie begins slowly. "Sheer wasn't a sweetheart, not like Cashmere. She was one of the smarter volunteers to come out of One, where normally they select for athleticism and compliance. I gather she was more like Johanna. Not as aggressive, maybe, but scornful. She despised Cashmere and made scathing comments about her intelligence."

"Good thing I killed her, then!" Finnick exclaims in mock outrage, and laughs.

This is her Finnick, whose most inappropriate humor means that he's in pain. Annie continues, still petting and stroking his back. "Cashmere tells me her job with the tributes was to calm them when they were nervous. Not her official job, of course, but she always found herself reassuring them. But Sheer avoided her."

"And Cashmere blamed herself when Sheer went into the arena a bundle of nerves," Finnick guesses.

"Yes, and that's not even the worst. All these years she's been wishing things had gone differently, but she's used to losing her tributes. Now she's fallen desperately in love with you, and she has to reconcile her feelings for you with ten years of wishing she'd helped someone kill you."

Finnick sighs from the bottom of his soul. Then he finally turns around and takes Annie into his arms. "I told Johanna that. They want to keep us divided, so they make sure we always have to wish someone dead. I told Johanna not to tear herself apart over killing our tribute. So I guess I'll try to take my own advice. And I'll talk to Cashmere."

Lying down, Finnick gestures to Annie to join him, but she doesn't, yet. Instead, still sitting, she puts a hand on his arm. "Do you want me to go get her? Would you feel better if she were sleeping here with us?"

"Really?" Finnick asks, surprised.

"She always sleeps here with me. Is there a rule that she can't when you're here?"

"It'll be crowded," Finnick observes.

"I won't mind. She certainly won't. She doesn't like being alone. I don't even think she'll mind being woken up, if it means she can be with us."

"Does she still not? I thought it was just right after she came out of the arena that she didn't want to be alone with her fear and grief. She was quick enough to volunteer to sleep in her room when I showed up. I assumed she wanted to be alone, or maybe she didn't want to watch us together."

"Well, volunteering isn't always voluntary. I think she's trying her best not to impose."

"If it really won't bother you..."

"Finnick, I can't sleep. You're having nightmares. And she's alone. I don't think any of us will be worse off for a cramped bed."

* * *

Annie tries everything she can think of to sleep at night, and relax during the day. All she wants for the next few days is to have a normal relationship, ignoring the fact that she's in hiding, she can only snatch a few days here and there with her boyfriend, and he may well die before she sees him again. The urgency only makes her pretend harder.

Perhaps because she's trying so hard, it's only on Finnick's third night here that Annie has her next meltdown. It starts when he puts his hand casually on Cashmere's shoulder, and then in her memory she sees him doing the same in the arena after Cashmere's defection, and then Mags is dying and Finnick is lying on the ground twitching chasing the jabberjays being dunked in the water and screaming out his pain her name-

 _Annie._

"Annie."

"No!" She covers her hands with her ears and starts rocking. He's out there in the front lines of this war, and she can't do anything for him, can't save his life like Johanna fucking Mason or tend to his wounds or even just be there for him at night, because she's too frightened to leave this shelter, and Cashmere could do all those things but she has to be here and not at Finnick's side, because Annie's too frightened to be alone, and Cashmere's going to die protecting her just like Finnick's going to die alone in some faraway land, and it'll be Annie's fault just like Evan and Mags and Donn are Annie's fault.

No one would tell her what happened to Donn, but she's crazy, not deaf, and on the voyage up here to Three she overheard the talk about the Battle for Annie Cresta, how someone went out with "You're messing with the wrong district" as her last words and how someone else, little more than a child, had thrown a kitchen knife and his whole family died for his defiance just like everyone in the district died when the Peacekeepers broke down their doors. _Where is Annie Cresta? *bang* Where is Annie Cresta?_

"Annie, love."

She can feel Finnick's eyes on her, burning through her, and even if he's not touching her, his concern for her is swamping her like that flood she barely survived, and no one should have to survive fire and water at once, not even in the arena, where Mags died and Finnick died and Annie Cresta died and something broken came crawling back and why is Finnick looking at her like this-

"Go," Annie chokes out. "Please!"

Finnick makes an unhappy sound, but he rises from the ground and puts his hand on the door, and there are two of him why are there two of him, is she going crazy? and then she remembers.

"Cashmere."

Finnick freezes. "Do you want Cashmere to stay?"

"Please!"

* * *

Finnick's hand trembles when he closes Annie's door behind him, and he has a hard time arranging his face into a photogenic mask. Annie needing to be alone during an episode is nothing new, though it hurts every time. He does his best to do everything she asks, sits still without moving, talks steadily without expecting her to listen to the words, and gives her silence when she needs it. That's not always enough, but at least he's gotten used to the fact. If she can't handle people, she can't handle people.

But suddenly, whatever Cashmere is doing is enough, and Annie can handle her. Just not Finnick.

He should be glad, he knows. He tells himself that again and again. It was a good idea to bring Cashmere here. Annie's safe with Cashmere and she trusts her, and that makes sense because Cashmere was with her all the way through the evacuation and is here every night. Finnick's never saved her, only endangered her, and he's never around at times like this, so why _should_ Annie want him?

His hand hovers over the knob of Cashmere's room, the one she never sleeps in and the only place he can go for privacy, but he can't sleep, he can't afford to break down crying, and he can't handle being alone, so he heads out to the common area instead. Almost everyone's retired for the night, but there are a few night owls working or just hanging out. He did promise Annie to get to know some of them for her, so he pulls up a chair and starts chatting.

Finnick can chat superficially with anyone, any time, but whenever he starts to probe for an update on recent events in Three, instinctively fishing for information, he runs up against a wall of politeness. At first he assumes it's the same resentment he encountered on his Victory Tour, when his only kill that wasn't a Career or in self-defense was against the boy from Three, because even hotshot record-setting Careers aren't immune to electricity. Now that he's been electrocuted, Finnick congratulates his younger self on having his priorities straight.

But they're on the same side now. Even if he failed Wiress, and had to prioritize Peeta over Beetee, the alliance between Three and Four is the strongest in Panem right now.

Digging deeper, Finnick begins to pick up on a different undertone than resentment. It's one he knows well. Condescension.

 _You couldn't begin to understand what we do_ is the message.

And all right, he's no physicist, but he's a spy trained by a strategist, and he'd put his trained memory up against anyone in this room's any time. Finnick has to keep reminding himself that he promised Mags he was prepared to deal with the fallout of his reputation, because he's so tired of the same fight over and over. No sooner does he convince someone to take him seriously than he meets someone else and has to start from ground zero.

Raw from Annie's— _it's not a betrayal_ —pain, sick with worry, and tired of fighting this battle, Finnick finds himself above ground, making for headquarters. If he can't sleep, and he has no one to keep him company, he can work himself to exhaustion.

* * *

When Finnick's gone for a couple of nights in a row, Annie makes herself go out for breakfast with Cashmere, telling herself that if it's a disaster, Finnick can deal with everyone else later while she hides in her room.

And Cashmere's here. The more she keeps reminding herself of that, the more she has at least one weapon to fight off the fear. Evacuating set her back, and adjusting to the new shelter was almost as hard, but both times Cashmere rose to the occasion effortlessly. It was like she got calmer when there was a crisis, something Annie can barely imagine.

Now she's here, and Annie briefly reaches out to touch her arm for moral support as they near the eating area.

When she hears her own name, Annie freezes instinctively. Cashmere freezes beside her, while Annie waits, listening with increasing outrage to the gossip.

The first thing she hears is a murmur of agreement that everyone's opinion of Finnick's taste went up when Annie came to Three. They agree she's clearly 'quality,' especially since she assembled the doors. But Cashmere, beautiful, available, and none too bright, did Finnick's reputation no good.

Annie's already fuming when the talk turns to disapproval of Finnick inflicting his mistress on his fiancée.

"Can't believe she puts up with that. I'd have kicked him to the curb by now."

"Women have lied to themselves before this. Or just looked the other way. He's quite the catch."

"In bed, sure, but you'd _have_ to be crazy to marry him."

Laughter. "You're saying he chose well, then. With the crazy one."

"Maybe she just doesn't think Cashmere's going to stick around long. I mean, he's going to get bored. He always does."

Someone else throws out a theory that Finnick, who used sex to get what he wanted in the Capitol for the sake of the revolution, is binding the most questionably loyal rebel to him, to keep Cashmere from defecting back. Annie gets a bodyguard out of it; why should she complain?

"It's consistent with his overall story," someone concedes. "But if I were Annie, I'd have to be skeptical. 'Oh, I don't _want_ to sleep with this gorgeous woman, I just _have_ to. My life is so rough.'"

They laugh.

"Well, _I_ think this is nothing but sour grapes speaking. What we really all want is to be Finnick, get away with murder, have a harem..."

Annie chooses that moment to make her entrance. She actually steps in front of Cashmere, whom she usually walks behind. The group seated around the table jump guiltily at the sound of her voice.

Her arms are folded as she leans casually against the door jamb and stares contemptuously at them. "You know what's always the first question on my mind? It's 'Is anyone trying to kill or torture me right now?' After that, it's 'Is anyone trying to kill or torture anyone I care about?' 'Is there food?' 'Can I get my medication?' Somewhere on this list is 'Is Finnick taking any risks with his life that I need to worry about?' Down around _one million_ on this list of questions is 'Who is Finnick sleeping with, anyway?'

"I really wish my life were stable enough for me to waste energy debating that. It appears to be a very entertaining question that can keep you occupied for hours. If I ever have that luxury, I'll find a group of friends to sit down with and gossip about someone else's sex life."

"So he didn't give you an explanation either?" someone demands, trying to wipe the guilt from her face.

"Oh, he did," Annie informs them. "And I believe him, because honestly, he knows any explanation would be good enough for me. Even 'I feel like it' would have been more than good enough."

"'I feel like it' is the most explanation any of us have gotten from him," someone else defends. "You can't blame us for wondering."

"When he's sitting in an underground shelter hiding from the enemy and you're out there risking your life to save his, _then_ you can expect him to explain himself to you. Until then, you can shut your mouth and give thanks that there are Careers willing to keep us alive."

With that, Annie steps inside and moves toward the food. "Now, I was coming here to sit and eat with all of you, but now I can't think why I wanted to, and I'm certainly not putting Cashmere through that."

Furious, she grabs the ladle out of the server's hand and starts filling her bowl with mush to carry back to her room. Cashmere, who says nothing, and whose face shows nothing, takes the ladle from Annie when she's done and fills her own bowl.

Annie deliberately said nothing about President Snow, or lists. That's Finnick's secret to keep or give out. But she's got Cashmere standing next to her, Cashmere who knows all about why victors "just _have_ to have sex with this gorgeous (wo)man," and who knows what it's like to be shamed for it, and she's going to protect Cashmere.

Annie's parting shot as she leaves, having ignored all attempts to placate her, is, "See, as long as there's _food_ -" She gestures emphatically with her bowl. "I don't care if he's out on a mission fucking Rudder right now."

* * *

When Finnick returns, quite late that night, from his mission, hugs Cashmere, and sits on the bed with Annie, Annie greets him with indignation. "Did you know they're talking trash about you and Cashmere? And wondering why I put up with it? I've even heard speculation that I'm too far gone to notice."

Finnick just smiles wryly. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. The gossip's been out of control since day one in District Thirteen."

"And you've been letting them talk?" she demands.

He shrugs. "Not in my hearing, but what can I do to shut them down when I'm not around? My sex life's always been public property. I'm used to it."

"She's not." Annie looks toward Cashmere, who's standing by the door, waiting to be asked to leave.

Finnick looks at Cashmere regretfully. "I can't make them stop talking. All I can do is tell you it's not true."

"But it is," Cashmere answers softly.

"What part?!" Annie demands. "The part where I'm too crazy to realize you're having sex with Finnick, or the part where I'm too crazy to realize I'd have to be crazy to marry Finnick? Finnick, stop smiling. I see the humor, but she's hurting."

Finnick hastily wipes the smile off his face.

"The part where you're going to get bored." Cashmere doesn't take her eyes off Finnick. "I was only surprised when you didn't the moment you were back with Annie."

"Oh, honey." Finnick reaches out his hand. "Come here."

Cashmere comes over to the bed, but holding herself aloof, guarding against the inevitable. Annie and Finnick get her settled in the middle, held close on both sides.

Annie starts, unable to contain her outrage. "I heard that Finnick is bribing you with sex he doesn't want to get you to work for us, because your contributions are valuable, and I heard that he's forcing me to put up with you, because sex is the only thing you're good for. They can't both be true!"

"What they're saying, lamb," Finnick summarizes, "even if they don't realize it, is that you're both attractive and competent."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Annie says with a nudge at Finnick.

"Exactly. Maybe if they were more attractive and competent, they could have sex with me too."

Annie elbows him harder this time. " _Aside_ from sex with Finnick, which is all things wonderful and exciting but not the only thing worth doing in life—stop snickering—even if you two get tired of sex with each other, you still live with me. This is your home, and you don't have to be alone no matter what he says or does. Okay?"

"Okay." Cashmere makes to rise. "I'm sorry, I'm cutting into your time together."

"No, stay," Annie urges, reaching out to catch her hand. "I'm sorry you've had to put up with this. I didn't know this is what they were doing to you every time I sent you out for food."

"It's the same everywhere."

Finnick makes an unhappy sound. "If I didn't know that, I'd offer to take you out of Three. But it was the same in Thirteen. And it was the same in the Capitol before that."

"You don't think Four would be better?" Annie wonders.

"Honestly? I think it would be worse. Four's pretty protective of you, Annie. The real answer, if it were doable, would be to spend more time in the common area. They won't make as many snap judgments if they know you."

"You think I want to be friends with these people?" Annie asks with scorn. "I went out to have breakfast with them, and look what happened."

Finnick smiles self-deprecatingly. "I won't repeat the things I said before I met you."

"Really?"

"I was nineteen, I was an idiot, and you were nothing to me but a drain on Mags' time and resources. Good thing I got to know you, right?"

"Good thing! All right, I'll think about it." What Annie thinks is that even if she's more willing to push herself to try it for Cashmere's sake, it doesn't make it any easier.

"I can bring people here one at a time, introduce you to the ones I think you might get along with. They do seem to respect you; their problem is with me and Cashmere."

"You did a good job with the last person you introduced me to," Annie acknowledges with a smile at Cashmere. "All right, I know you're trying to help."

Finnick holds his hands up, palms forward. "I'm trying not to push. How are you holding up? That can't have been pleasant this morning."

"I'm fine. A little shaky, but I'm better off than she is. At least I can rage at them in my head."

Finnick gives it one more try. "Sweetheart, I don't know how to tell you anything you'll believe more than you believe my reputation, but you're a wonderful angel who makes my life better, and Annie's. You are sweetness itself."

At the beginning of the familiar litany, Cashmere relaxes in his arms with a small sigh. "A honeybee," he continues.

She sits up straight in confusion. "Honey _bee_? Don't bees sting?" she objects.

"Yes," Finnick teases, "each bee carries one sword, and they're very skilled with their swords, so they get lots of respect. But they also make honey, so we love them." He nuzzles Cashmere, who breaks out into a wide smile at a laughing Annie.

"Well, now that you explain it that way, I like it." Cashmere beams in pleasure. "So that makes me your honeybee?"

"Our honeybee," Annie answers firmly.

The bed is crowded again that night, with three people in it, but Annie's only complaint is that she falls asleep almost instantly, without the chance to savor Cashmere curled up in a ball on one side, and Finnick stretched out on the other, her arm flung over him. It's the warmest she's ever been, and she sleeps for once dreamlessly.

* * *

Finnick wakes her up before dawn. "I have to leave in an hour. I'm being summoned back to Four."

Groggy, Annie hangs her head and can't quite hide her disappointment. "It's only been five days, and you were gone two."

"I can only afford five days," Finnick explains, and he can't quite hide his impatience. "I'm not exactly inconspicuous. I'm sorry I fucked up in the arena, but even if you were in hiding in Four, I couldn't risk letting them trace me to you. You said you wanted to be with a celebrity and a soldier, and right now, this is what it means."

"No, I know, I know. I just feel bad because I keep putting off apologizing for kicking you out."

Finnick tries to shrug it off, but his casualness is forced. "If you can't handle my company, you can't handle it." He hesitates. "I was just wondering if, whatever she's doing right, I could maybe try it?"

"It's not—is she asleep?"

Finnick puts his hand on Cashmere's shoulder. She doesn't twitch. "Yeah."

Annie puts her chin on her knees and sighs. "It's not anything you're doing wrong or she's doing right. It's just that I meant it when I said I can't handle people. Even when you're sitting still without moving, I can feel you watching me, needing to do something, worrying about me-"

"I have done everything you asked!" Finnick half shouts, in frustration and pain.

"I know! You said you wanted to be with the mad girl on a rollercoaster. And that means sometimes Cashmere's the only one I can handle because being in a room with her is like being alone. It's not a good thing! She doesn't radiate personality, I can't tell she's there when I close my eyes, and she doesn't take initiative. You were right, she's more damaged than I am, and I feel guilty that when I'm having a meltdown, that makes her easier to take.

"Finnick, please don't wish her problems on yourself. You're the only one of the three of us who has a chance of coming out of this in one piece. I wish I could help her, and I don't know how."

"Okay." Finnick twists the bedding in his fingers, trying to accept this. "Annie?" He holds out his arms, and Annie climbs onto his lap. She wraps her arms around him, pulls his head down onto her shoulder, and gives him all the comfort she can.

"Please don't think I want you to change. Or that I don't want you around. It's just...everything that's happened since the Quarter Quell was announced has been almost as bad as going into the arena the first time. I got set back to zero again, and I don't even have medication. But I'm trying, I promise. And I haven't lost all the ground I gained since the first time. I learned a lot about what works for me and what doesn't, and I have people I can trust." Her fingers knead the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, making him moan. "I wish I'd known you the first time, enough that we could hold onto each other like this."

"Does it help?"

"Finnick, you know I can never promise to be consistent, but right now, at this moment, it does. Now come back to me in one piece, or if you can't, come back and let me put you back together."

Finnick promises, wakes Cashmere for a quick hug goodbye, and then he's gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Annie eats with the others as often as she can force herself to. Before he left, Finnick gave her a rundown on everyone, and she's going to take advantage of that. Whether or not she ends up making friends, she's determined to stop being so afraid.

The time she scolded them both helps and hurts. She feels brave remembering how she stood up for Cashmere. But every time she sits down at the table, she has to force her way into a conversation that's inevitably stilted.

They're fortunate that Annie has no idea who said what. It helps her give each of them the benefit of the doubt as she gets to know them.

Cashmere struggles with questions the way she always does. She knows canned answers only get you so far, but she stumbles whenever they run out. Annie scowls whenever someone gives her a _That's what I thought, not too bright_ look. She wants to tell them that Cashmere has plenty to say when she stops overthinking, but she has to be coaxed.

Paradoxically, though, that makes Annie more willing to step in front of her and be the conversational vanguard. Finnick was right about one thing: it'll make her life easier if she's not surrounded by total strangers. That's why Mags insisted on making all the victors familiar faces.

So she sticks it out, and it gets easier. Not everyone's sociable, but there's always something easy to talk about, whether it's life in the shelter or life before. She finds herself describing District Four, and there's always someone happy to trade stories.

Annie becomes a lot more popular during a discussion about the monotony of the fish and mush diet. "I'll give you my recipes?" she offers. "The ones that aren't fancy? I'm sorry, I just thought the fish was arriving in this state."

She gets a shamefaced "No, that's just the only way I know how to prepare it" from Elmer in response. "And I don't dare experiment on tight rations, because if I ruin it, we still have to eat it."

The success of her recipes gives her the courage to ask about their work. "Are you assembling anything? Or is it all design?"

The prospect of talking about work makes several ears prick up and spoons go down. Annie suddenly feels like all eyes are on her, and she grabs Cashmere's hand before she can give in to the urge to run away.

"Mostly it's design," Silica answers her. He's the most outgoing, and he was the first one to strike up conversation with her. "We couldn't move the factories underground, so the military's defending them against the bombing as best they can, and a few of us who are good at inventing got stashed away underground."

"But it's hard to design things without testing whether your idea works or not," someone else interjects. It's a woman whose face Annie recognizes, but not the name. She keeps mostly to herself. "And no, we can't build missiles here, but I'm working on secure communication devices, and I do a lot of assembly."

Annie braces herself. _The worst they can say is no._ "Do you need to know a lot of science for this assembly? Or can you just follow directions?"

Silica looks at Annie. "Are you offering?"

"I don't know anything about tech," Annie says right off. "And I'm used to working with wood, not wires. But I'm good with my hands, I can follow directions, and I can read a blueprint. Or at least, I can read a District Four blueprint."

"You used to work with boats?" he guesses. "You showed us what to do with the doors, I remember."

Annie nods. "I used to build and repair them."

"Hm. If you've got the manual dexterity, I could use an extra pair of hands," the woman offers. "That would be a big help."

"I'd love to."

After breakfast, when they've scrounged up an extra chair at the woman's workstation, Annie smiles at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

She reacts with a surprisingly deep breath and taut expression. "It's Jewel but not the jewel you're thinking of," she rattles off.

Annie blinks. "What other kind of jewel is there?"

"It's spelled J-O-U-L-E, and it's my parents making a pun. I used to give them a hard time about it, but since I stopped being made fun of at school, I kind of like it. A joule is a unit of measurement, like a meter or a kilogram..." Joule stops. "Wait, do you use inches and pounds?"

"We do. And nautical miles. But I know what a meter is."

"I don't know why we can't standardize," she mutters. "Anyway, I'm Joule. And you're Annie."

She's Annie. The mad girl. She sits through the introductory lesson tense, trying not to look around, and worrying about having an episode. Eventually, she realizes she can barely remember anything Joule's said. This is not off to a good start.

"I'm sorry," Annie finally has to say, "do you mind if Cashmere joins me just for company? I don't do very well in new places."

Annie's sure that Joule is surprised the lab next to the dining area counts as a new place, but to her credit, she doesn't say so. "Sure, we'll drag in another chair from the dining room." Joule hesitates. "You don't mind having her around?"

 _No, every time I look at her it reminds me that I don't control who Finnick has sex with, and that the only relationships worth having are sexually exclusive._ This is getting old. But all Annie says, with an effort at calm, is, "She's very, very nice, and we keep each other company."

Cashmere joins them, and she does a quick reconnaissance around the room, making sure she knows the lay of the land in case she needs to later. Her eyes go wide at all the unfamiliar objects, but Annie's sure she could improvise a weapon out of any of them, if she needed to. Her sword is buckled reassuringly over her left hip, and a pistol on her right.

When the room has checked out, Cashmere gives Annie a brief nod and sits down beside her.

Annie realizes that what makes her feel safe is not so much that Cashmere gave the room a once-over, but that she did it without making Annie feel like she was being humored. Like Finnick, Cashmere knows that the world is full of threats that you have to be prepared for.

That's what Mags never really got, and why it took Finnick to get Annie out of the house. Mags kept telling her that nothing would happen. Finnick said that if anything happened, he would handle it.

To be fair to Mags, nothing ever did happen until the Quarter Quell, and Mags handled it. But there was no way that sixteen-year-old Annie, fresh out of the arena, was going to hear the words _nothing will hurt you, it's all over now_ and be able to believe them.

Shaking herself a little, Annie looks at the paper Joule's writing on. She has to stop thinking about the past now, and focus on engineering.

With Cashmere sitting next to her, Annie finds she can concentrate on what she's doing, not on her surroundings. As the days pass, Joule praises her on how quickly she picks up the use of unfamiliar tools and diagrams.

"It's different in detail," Annie tells her, "but the skills are the same."

She learns to use a soldering iron. She learns to read schematics. She learns that a breadboard is not for bread. She learns how not to injure herself. She's never had to worry about electric shock before, and Joule watches her closely until she's sure Annie knows what she's doing.

Then it's not long before Annie's beavering away, thrilled at the chance to do something she enjoys. More than that, something new. Something that wasn't in her life before. It's like dating Finnick. It means her life didn't end with the Hunger Games.

Joule shares her excitement. "No censorship, no rigid job description, no supervisor standing over you every minute making sure you don't deviate even a millimeter from requirements. We're treading new ground here, and my job-" She says it like she can't believe it. "My _job_ is speculation."

It takes a while longer before Annie can do some of the work mechanically and chat while she's doing it, but when she does, she discovers a new way she can be useful. In the course of all this speculation, it turns out, Joule could use a sounding board. And not only Joule.

The engineers have powwows where they put their heads together and hash over their current problems. It's surprising how often this is when the breakthroughs happen, when someone goes from stumped to smacking themselves on the head as soon as they describe the problem out loud.

"Creativity benefits from breaks," Joule explains to Annie. "Otherwise your brain just hashes endlessly over the same details and never sees the big picture. And explaining things helps a lot. Sometimes it doesn't even matter if the other person fully understands the problem. Some of us even use inanimate objects to talk to."

"Well, if an inanimate object can do it," says Annie, "I can do it!"

They happily take advantage of her enthusiasm, but they don't let her stay an inanimate object long. It's at the end of a group powwow, when some people are making small talk and some are drifting back to work, that a handful of the engineers decide it's time to teach Annie physics. She doesn't even know everyone, but everyone's been watching her with interest.

"We don't expect you to be at our level," Silica assures her.

"Even if you're as smart, it took us fifteen, twenty years of schooling to get here," Joule agrees.

"So we'll check your progress in fifteen years." Someone she doesn't know.

Elmer chimes in, "But you'll be less bored if you understand some of what we're talking about, and what you're working on."

"And physics is fun! You live in this world, you see physics happening around you every day. Time to understand it."

When Annie realizes she's going to be taught by a committee, she starts to laugh. The questions and comments continue to fly from every corner.

"How much math do you have?"

"We did fractions?" Annie answers. She's not sure how much that is.

A lot of "mmm"ing and head shaking in the room. "All right, conceptual physics, then. So light-"

"No, don't start with waves!" Joule interrupts. "Start with particles. Waves are confusing."

Annie waves her hand eagerly, like she's back in school. "I know about waves!"

She gets the laugh she expected.

"Well, that's something. It is the same principles."

"She doesn't know the principles behind waves, she just knows what they are."

"It's a starting point," the man defends. "She has some experience with their behavior."

"All right, fine. Go get a bowl of water and a pebble."

He gets up, and as soon as he's out of earshot, Joule begins, "Now, while he's gone, everything is made of particles too small to see."

Annie giggles, but Joule nudges her, and she puts on her best listening face.

"Unlike pebbles, though, they're not solid balls."

"Sometimes we draw them as balls, though," Silica observes.

"Oh my god, stop interjecting with irrelevant details. Sometimes I draw you as a stick figure, but it turns out you actually have mass and organs. Anyway. Annie. You know about the earth and the other planets going around the sun?"

Annie does.

"Oh, good, that makes it easier. And the sun is much bigger than the earth, it just seems small because it's so far away?"

More hesitantly, she nods again.

All these particles, it turns out, are made of even smaller particles that are like the sun, and minuscule particles that zoom around in orbit like planets.

"But there's more than one sun in the middle," Silica points out.

"So it's a different solar system. Don't worry about it."

"And everything is made of these particles?" Annie asks.

"Yes. You, your body, the air you breathe, this table, the sun, the earth-"

"Everything except the things that aren't." Silica must be what Finnick's like at the academy: having fun, livening things up, showing off, and keeping beginners from actually learning anything.

"Everything you need to worry about right now," Joule emphasizes. She directs a quelling look at Silica, who falls silent. Momentarily.

"Even the waves?"

"Definitely the waves."

"So...the waves are made up of little droplets of water that move around in wave patterns?"

"Yes, and the droplets of water are made up of particles."

"Which are like suns and planets."

Silica adds, "They're called protons and elect-"

"We'll get there," Joule cuts him off. "You teach students new concepts, and then, once they have a need for a name for the new concept, you tell them what it's called. You don't pelt them with unfamiliar words outside of any context."

Just then, the man whose name Annie needs to learn returns. "Now. This is a bowl of water. I'm going to drop a pebble in the middle. What's going to happen?"

Annie looks at the bowl. "The pebble's going to sink to the bottom, and the water's going to ripple. And depending on how hard you drop it, there might be splashing."

"See? She knows about waves."

Annie doesn't expect to learn much in this haphazard fashion, but she plays along for the sake of camaraderie. After the first few lessons, though, it settles down into Joule and Elmer as her dedicated teachers, and others who give her bite-sized facts at meal time. Then one day, it dawns on her how much she's learned.

"I feel like I'm from this district!" she tells Cashmere happily, as they settle into bed. Cashmere never sleeps in the room she was formally assigned. She still doesn't speak to anyone except Annie.

"They like you," she says, smiling at Annie.

"You don't want to join in? You can ask questions any time you want, you know."

Cashmere just shakes her head. Then, a minute later, "Unless you want me to?"

"Oh, Cashmere, it doesn't matter to me. I just want you to feel comfortable. I worry about you getting bored."

"I'm not bored. Finnick said he wanted me to help keep you safe. And if you want anything, I'll do-" Her voice trails off as Annie fills in,

"Whatever I want. Yes."

"I don't know why you and Finnick don't like it when I say that."

Annie hugs her and gives up the battle. "We just want to be sure you're getting what you need. I wish I knew how to help you more."

"I have everything I need," Cashmere assures her.

Annie only wishes she could believe that.

Engineering problems are easier to solve. Now that she has an idea that the physical world can be explained, everything she sees turns into a question to ask.

Some concepts are easier to explain than others, but Joule always does her best to give at least a partial answer. One day, though, when Annie's asking about the wind patterns on the coast back home, Joule stares at the wall, drumming her fingers and muttering about laws of gases and atmospheric pressure.

"Ask Beetee," Joule finally decides. "I learned all this in school, but it's been so long that I worked with anything that wasn't electric that I don't remember the details well enough to explain to you. And he worked on a wind turbine project a while back. He'll remember."

"Oh, well," Annie laughs, "I probably wouldn't understand him anyway."

"No, he's very clear. He has such an excellent grasp of all the physical concepts from the bottom up and how they connect that he can summarize anything to anyone, off the cuff."

"Really?" Annie's surprised. "I thought if you you were really good at what you do, you can't explain it. Everybody says he's a genius, so..."

Joule shrugs. "I've known geniuses like that, but some people are natural teachers. I'm better than Silica, but Beetee's even better than I am."

"All right. If I see him, I'll ask, but he's been keeping to himself a lot."

"He's keeping to himself too much. You should go talk to him. You're both Hunger Games victors."

Annie wants to protest, _I don't know him, I'm not from this district, I only met him once_...but Joule's argument trumps all others.

 _Remember Mags sending all the victors to your house one by one?_

Remembering what Mags always said about paying debts forward, Annie can't refuse the opportunity to pay this one.

So she finds herself in Beetee's room a couple days later. It's bigger than hers, accommodating both a workstation, a cot, and enough room for maneuvering a wheelchair around. It's a new place for Annie, but Cashmere isn't accompanying her, because Annie caught on to Beetee's discomfort around her the first time.

He explains pressure differentials and how they relate to air movement, how the ocean absorbs heat during the day and releases it more slowly at night than dry land, and how these and other many factors combine to create the ocean breezes she's familiar with.

Joule was right. Annie knows she's only getting a small piece of all the possible explanation he could give, but it's a piece that makes sense to her.

Then Beetee tells her a bit about the projects he's working on, and time passes quickly while he works and she hands him whatever object he asks for. She also asks him about the details of the shelter and its surroundings, since he's traveled the most and has the broadest perspective on the war.

That's how she learns that they're near an abandoned town. By putting the engineers near the coast and away from the bulk of the population of Three, Rudder hopes to keep them away from the fighting. Meanwhile, the nearby town has been ransacked for goods. That's where the doors came from.

It's also where their power is coming from. They're near a power plant that they're leading the enemy to believe is shut down and abandoned. It's only generating a little power, enough for this one shelter, and they only have someone manning it at night. They're trying to hook up more and more interfaces so that they can control it from here, but that takes time.

"I thought power was from District Five?" Annie wonders.

Then Beetee explains about the laws of thermodynamics and the inevitable loss of energy. The farther the energy output from its source, the less efficient. "We always had our own plants, because we needed more electricity. I'm guessing you didn't."

"That's true. You sleep when it's dark and work when it's light. Most people didn't have a telephone. And televisions aren't wired."

Beetee explains, "Televisions are kept battery-operated and supplied free by the state so that even the poorest families without electricity can have one. At any rate, eventually we'll have an entire array of defenses layered onto this bunker, so that we can go into a complete lockdown and weather almost anything they can throw at us until reinforcements arrive."

That day can't come soon enough for Annie.

When they hear a commotion from outside that says it's time for the evening meal, and Annie rises, she catches a complicated look on Beetee's face. She thinks quickly.

"If you're busy," she offers, "I can bring something back for both of us." Not _if you don't feel like facing the crowd_ or _if maneuvering the chair is a pain_ , but _if you're in the middle of something important_ , since they barely know each other. Time enough later for more openness.

Beetee accepts neutrally, and Annie finds herself in the dining room with two servings.

Before going back, she spots Cashmere, and makes her way over. "I'll be out later, sorry to leave you on your own, but I'm working with Beetee, and it's easier to start with just the two of us."

"Are you doing okay?" Cashmere asks, studying Annie's face closely.

"I can do this," Annie tells her, not quite answering the question. She can feel herself standing on the balls of her feet and hunching her shoulders in a bit, but even if she's not exactly relaxed, she can do this for Beetee. Cashmere did it for her.

"I'll be here," Cashmere assures her. "I'll be here in the dining room until you come out." It's exactly what Annie needs to hear, and she smiles at Cashmere.

"I am so lucky to have you."

Back in Beetee's room, Annie starts talking about more personal topics over dinner. A bit nervously, but determined to reach out. She realizes now how uncomfortable the other victors must have been when they first reached out to her, and how alone she would have been if they'd let that stop them.

She goes quickly to her personal elephant in the room, giving Beetee a quick rundown like the one she gave Cashmere. She's casual and matter-of-fact when talking about her madness, and while it's a bit forced, it's also real. It's how she needs everyone else to treat the subject. In addition, she's trying, implicitly, to communicate to Beetee that he's free to treat his wheelchair this way with her.

But Beetee doesn't even seem that uncomfortable with her, and when he mentions Wiress, she understands why. "We never talked so bluntly about her problems, but they were always there. But nothing ever stopped us from getting work done together."

"She was mad too?"

Beetee makes a noncommittal sound. "I gave it a lot of thought, after I got to know her. She was my mentor," he adds. "I came to the conclusion that sanity is a continuum, not a binary." When Annie frowns, trying to sort that one out, he elaborates, "The world isn't divided into those who are mad and those who aren't. Everyone has problems in different areas of their life, to different degrees, with different coping strategies. I used to think I had problems coming out of the arena the first time, but nothing like now."

Annie's nodding vigorously. "I realized a while back that the only way I can put it is that I'm 'partly' mad. I can sit here and talk to you and help you with work, but I know it doesn't make sense to be so afraid of everything all the time. What was Wiress like? I wish I'd gotten to meet her."

"She used to bury herself in her work," Beetee remembers. "Sometimes so deep it was hard to get her out. She had these really creative phases where she'd stun everyone with her productivity. Other times, she needed repetition and tedium to keep her demons at bay. She could spend hours soothing herself by stringing and unstringing beads on a thread.

"I haven't seen anyone come out of the arena without problems and the need to find a way to cope with them. Unless you think some of the Careers are an exception."

Annie shakes her head. "Not the ones I've met. Not that the arena was the worst part for everyone. But one of the first things I learned about Finnick is that he has some of the same symptoms I do, he just hides them better. You mentioned coping strategies. His is laughing everything off. It alienates anyone who thinks he doesn't take anything seriously, but he always says it's better than drowning in alcohol."

"Some of us manage not to do either," Beetee observes, but mildly enough that Annie doesn't feel the need to defend Finnick too sharply. She can't argue with everyone who finds Finnick grating.

"Like you said, everyone's different. What's it like growing up in Three? Would I have liked it here? I'm enjoying getting my hands on wires."

"Hmm. Well, the one way I gather we're most different from other districts is that the smartest kids stay in school until they're twenty."

"Twenty!" Annie exclaims. "Full time? We're in school part time until twelve, then we're done."

"So Mags told me. Katniss says it's eighteen in her district, but that's only to keep them busy. With us, it's because—if you mine coal or fish badly, you're the one who gets hurt. If you mis-wire something, someone in the Capitol gets hurt. So they want to make sure we're doing it right."

"Did you do a lot of passive resistance?"

Beetee smiles warmly. "Sssh. Yes, sometimes. But you have to be careful, or they'll catch on. Quality control inspection is intense, and most of the faulty goods came back. Then whoever made them was punished."

"Rough," Annie commiserates. "We didn't have much quality control inspection, and I gather neither did Seven. I had to put together some shoddy boats out of shoddy wood, because like you said, we're the ones who get hurt. That's how my mother died. The boat she was fishing on took on too much water in a storm. I thought of her every time I sent off a sub-par piece of work."

Conversations about growing up in different districts are the easy ones. Harder is talking about the arena. It's always painful, but now that she's done it with Finnick and Cashmere, Annie finds she can do it again. When Mags knew her, she was still too raw.

"How did you know Evan?" Beetee asks in one of these abrupt, fragmentary ventures into the topic of the Hunger Games.

Annie closes her eyes, breathing deeply to try to deal with this memory. Everyone who watched her react to his death must have been wondering if they'd grown up together, or if she'd even been in love with him. "I met him on the train. And he didn't like me, or at least he wasn't very patient with me in the arena. I was holding him back, when he should have been in the Career pack."

Beetee looks surprised, but cuts himself off.

"You're wondering why he teamed up with me in that case?" Annie guesses. "He died wondering the same thing. Mags got him to. How she did it, I'll never know.

"That's the thing," Annie says after a long silence. "I understand why Mags died for me. We were close, we lived together after her stroke, and we'd known each other for years. Not to mention she loved Finnick more than anyone in the world. In a way, all that made it hurt more, and obviously I miss her in a way I don't miss him, but I know how to say goodbye. I know she thought it was worth it.

"Evan...how on earth was that worth it for him? Sure, I sent some of my winnings to his family, but nothing like he would have, and I never knew them, or him. That's why I can't stop thinking about him. I can't stop reliving that moment. I wish I knew how."

Beetee shakes his head despondently. "I don't know. I just don't know."

Neither Beetee nor Annie has any answers, but when Annie slides her hand onto his larger, darker one, Beetee closes it around hers.

"Teach me things?" she entreats, when the time for painful memories has passed. "I have so much to catch up on."

"You're actually interested in physics?" Beetee asks fondly. "Even though you're from the fishing district?"

"Well, they haven't started me on math yet, so I don't know how good I am. But Joule was right. I live in the world, and I like making sense of it. And you know, sometimes I have a hard time leaving my room, but I have a question, and I make myself leave so I can get my question answered."

"I've heard her say you ask good questions when she's explaining her work, and that it helps."

That's nice to hear. If Joule's been saying when Annie's not around that having an assistant helps, it means she's not just taking pity on the mad girl. "I've been doing my best. And she and some of the others are teaching me the basics from the ground up, and I'm enjoying that."

"What have you been learning?" Beetee asks.

"A lot about electricity," Annie tells him, "except I feel like they're having a really hard time explaining it properly without math. A lot about atoms, and electrons, and how the properties of most things I see around me have to do with how many electrons are in the atom. How they can use the properties of atoms to make predictions about new materials they're making."

"So some chemistry and materials science. That would be easier without math, yes. What about conservation of energy, pendulums...any of that?"

None of that means anything to Annie.

"Come by when you're curious, then. I can teach that stuff in my sleep."

She comes by not just when she's curious, but when she's determined to reach out to him. Beetee's not only a good teacher, but a good friend.

She still has to flee back to Cashmere the first time she feels a meltdown coming on during one of their sessions, but she feels comfortable enough with Beetee to explain why afterward, when she's recovered.

"Just the fact that I'm admitting this means I trust you," Annie tells him. "I always come up with a quick lie on the spot, when I'm panicking...well, not even a lie always. Sometimes I don't want to admit I'm having a meltdown, but other times all I know is I'm feeling sick and need to lie down, and I don't figure out why until later."

"Well, if you don't know, you don't know," Beetee says, "but if you do, you can tell me. If you need to lie down for whatever reason, just go ahead."

"Thanks." They've gotten to know each other better, and Annie finds herself in the unexpected position of playing Finnick. "You know, it took a long time before I was ready to come out of my shell, but when I did, I was surprised at how nice people were. I'm not saying it was never uncomfortable, or that everyone was good about accepting my problems, but it's definitely been worth it."

Beetee gives her a look over the drafts he's flipping through, and she blushes. As manipulations go, that one was pretty obvious.

"Well. They didn't know you before."

Annie asks in surprise, "Did you know everyone here?" It's a smaller district than Four, but she had the impression that the war brought a lot of strangers together into the bunker.

"It doesn't matter whether I knew them," Beetee says. "They knew me, or thought they did."

Of course. Annie knows that feeling, when everyone's had a chance to form a preconception of you based on what they saw on television, and she knows Finnick has it even worse.

That explains why Beetee's been so gruff with everyone else and refused to talk about anything that isn't work. But not why he made an exception for Annie. "You don't mind having me here?"

Beetee makes a face. "What can I say? That you're a victor? That you reminded me of Wiress? That you were absolutely blunter about your own problems than anyone I've ever met, and I knew you wouldn't give me any trouble over mine?"

Annie still has to nudge him just a little. "People are going to give you trouble, especially at the beginning, and some never learn. Donn's wife...I never could get through to her, and Donn wasn't much better. They were so determined to be helpful that they never listened. I think Mags talked to Donn and made him tone it down. Toward the end, I started being able to go places with him. But Finnick got it all wrong at first, and it wasn't long before he became the absolute best person to have around if I'm having a meltdown."

"Really," Beetee marvels. "He'd be the last one I'd expect to listen. How so?"

Annie thinks about it. "When everyone else is demanding that I calm down, he's decided it's a crisis and the important thing is for him to stay calm. When they're insisting I tell them what they can do to make it better, and there's nothing because all you can do at that point is make me more agitated, Finnick's getting them to calm down. He'll just wait it out with me. I feel safe panicking around him, if that makes any sense."

Beetee passes her a soldering iron. There's been a recent shortage of breadboards that don't require soldering, and Annie's been making the primitive kind out of wood that does. It makes her proud that her carving skills are coming in handy. "So that's it? Just stay calm?"

Annie sighs. "I don't know. It depends on how bad it is. Sometimes I need to be alone, no exceptions. Finnick will leave without making a fuss if I ask him to."

"He can't enjoy that."

"No, but there's not really much to enjoy when I'm panicking. But sometimes sticking around and staying calm is the only thing to do. And then, if I can handle it, sometimes he'll figure out how to distract me in a way that works." Holding her breadboard carefully, she chuckles at a memory.

"What?" Beetee looks at her curiously.

Annie has to wait until she's finished this delicate step before she can continue. "Just that...humor is mostly only going to upset me if I'm in a bad way. But somehow with Finnick, it's so clear that he's laughing with me, not at me, that it's okay. I'm remembering the time he came over to find me tearing up a sofa cushion with a pair of scissors. I was being surgical about it, cutting even, parallel strips."

 _She didn't look up when Finnick asked what she was doing. "I figured it was better than cutting myself. Less likely to upset Mags." Her voice was completely flat._

 _Finnick came to sit down across from her. Without saying anything, he started gathering up the strips. When he had twelve of them, he arranged them so that they overlapped into a circle, crossing at the center and radiating out in twenty-four rays._

 _Then he grabbed a handful of stuffing from the inside of the cushion, and put it into the center of his circle. Pulling the strips tight around the stuffing, he had a lump, with twenty-four strands dangling around it._

 _As soon as Annie finished another strip and was about to cast it aside, Finnick held out his hand. Hesitating, Annie handed it to him. He used it to secure the base of his lump with a knot, so that the stuffing would stay inside. Then he braided the dangling strands into eight braids of three._

 _"It's an octopus," Annie realized, in a daze. Who improvises a plush octopus when I'm having an episode?_

 _"An octopus with a bowtie," Finnick added, showing her the bow he tied at the base of the octopus's head._

 _"It needs some eyes." She was finally distracted from her cushion-cutting activities and fully invested in this plush octopus._

 _"Got any buttons?"_

 _When they were hunting through a box of buttons, looking for two that matched, another use for them occurred to Annie. "You know, it could use some suction cups on the tentacles."_

 _"Annie, you're brilliant."_

"It didn't solve anything," she tells Beetee. "I was still in distress. I wasn't even capable of laughing about the silly octopus until much later. But it...I guess it kept the afternoon from being a complete disaster."

She kept that octopus right up until the Peacekeepers fired her house behind her and Rudder.

"And you trusted him."

Annie nods. "Time and again, he's shown me that no matter what I throw at him, he can handle it."

The thought echoes in her head until she sees him again.


	6. Chapter 6

"Are we still engaged?" Annie asks Finnick, leaning her head against his chest. "We did say if we both survived the Quarter Quell, we'd get married."

Finnick's heart gives a great leap under her cheek, and she catches him smothering a quick look of surprise. "Do you still want to be engaged?"

Annie sighs. She wants a lot of contradictory things, and she's afraid of setting him up for disappointment. "I feel bad about all those years. You never wanted to be alone, and I could never be there for you."

"Annie," he chides gently, "you were in a lot of pain."

"I'm in more now," she tells him. "But I need to have Cashmere here, because it's one thing to panic because I can't stop reliving the past, and and another thing to panic because there's a price on my head right now. I feel bad that Evan wasn't enough, Mags wasn't enough, Donn wasn't enough, Rudder risking his life wasn't enough—I need one more Career willing to die for me."

"You know _I_ feel bad because on that list of Careers protecting you, I'm nowhere to be found."

"I'm glad!" Annie exclaims. "You think I don't have nightmares about that? It's bad enough that I feel like I'd rather take a bullet for Cashmere than let anything happen to her, though I'm sure I wouldn't have the courage if it came down to it."

"Asking her to be your bodyguard backfired?" Finnick asks, smiling.

Annie smiles. "A little. Anyway, that's why I can handle having her around, and you when you're here. I'm scared to death when I'm alone, and she's the only reason I can eat in the common area, assemble equipment, or learn engineering. I'm just afraid that, paradoxically, if I start to get better, I'll start not being able to fall asleep unless I'm alone. I already had to kick you out during a meltdown."

"I'm willing to take that risk. You started talking about getting married right after Snow made his announcement," Finnick reminds her.

"I also stopped taking birth control. I was so desperate I wasn't thinking clearly. I can see why there are so many births nine months after the Reaping."

Finnick looks surprised for a minute, then he nods. "Marriages have skyrocketed in every district I've been to."

"Do you want to be one of them?" She wouldn't blame him if he's given up on her.

But Finnick is Finnick. "All I've wanted for years now is to live with you. It's up to you."

"And I'm a rollercoaster," Annie sighs. "I never told you...there was never a good time, and it hasn't come up because I haven't been up for anything lately that might lead to pregnancy, but I had a false pregnancy alarm when I came here."

Finnick's arms tighten around her. "I can't believe all the things you've had to handle on your own. I wasn't here for more than a night that time, was I?"

"I told Cashmere. She thought it was stress and food deprivation, and sure enough, when she made me feel a little safer, and you got us a little more food, I started bleeding again."

"Well, I'm sorry you couldn't tell me, I'm sorry I didn't know you went off your birth control, and I'm sorry I didn't figure out that you were off your meds during the Hunger Games and Victory Ball until it was too late."

"Oh, you did figure it out?" Annie's surprised, then not. "I guess I dropped enough hints."

"After Katniss's ball, yes. You were trying to keep me from smuggling you supplies from the Capitol, weren't you? I'm sorry I haven't been able to bring you anything here, either. I just haven't been able to find what you need, with the blockades and shortages and not wanting to poison you."

"I didn't want you smuggling, because it wasn't worth the risk. After the first time, I knew I just had to hold out a couple weeks. I started cutting them in half so I didn't have to come off them all at once. And before the Quarter Quell, I saved up a bunch of sedatives, because I knew I would need them."

"You're too brave. You shouldn't be allowed to be this brave."

Annie reaches up to wipe away his tears. "I had to. There's only so much I can live with being responsible for. As for why I didn't tell you I was trying to get pregnant...I was so out of it after the announcement that I don't think I had reasons for what I did, or at least I stopped being able to put my reasons into words. I was running on sheer survival instincts. It was like hiding in holes and eating bugs again, just waiting for a Career to find me."

"I'm sorry. We tried to tell you we weren't letting you go in again, but you wouldn't leave the house so we could talk without surveillance."

Annie shakes her head. "You and Mags kept saying you were volunteering. You think that was _better_ for me?"

"I didn't really want her going in either, but...she was right, as always. That was the best outcome we were going to get."

"And now we have to live with it. Are you upset with me for trying to get pregnant without telling you? I was afraid you'd say no, and it was something I had to do, to stay alive."

Finnick says slowly, "I would have said no, but for a different reason. You couldn't have gotten pregnant from me. The Capitol shut that down. I had to get the shots for diseases every year, but the chemical sterilization was permanent. Oh, I suspect it's reversible. Who knows when me fathering children was suddenly going to suit their purposes. But it would actually have to be reversed."

Annie jerks in surprise. "Oh. I knew about your shots, and I knew you couldn't get anyone pregnant there, but I thought it only lasted as long as you were in the Capitol. You have to keep taking pills. I didn't know there was such a thing as permanent birth control."

Finnick looks rueful. "I guess we avoid talking about my life in the Capitol, and I take it for granted. I forget that you didn't live there."

"Well, I feel stupid now."

"Don't." Finnick tightens his arms around her. "Like I said, everyone's doing it. If I'd known, I would've just told you that if you wanted to get pregnant, it would have to be with someone else."

Annie stares at him. "And you'd be okay with that?"

Finnick shrugs. "Why not? I didn't see Mags asking a lot of questions about whether I was related to her. If it's your child, and if you want to be married to me, then it's mine."

Annie's surprised she hadn't thought of that before. In her world, everyone made a big deal about her being the niece, not the daughter. She'd hoped that maybe Finnick, who's always been furious that Annie was a second-class citizen in her family, wouldn't mind so much. But she'd forgotten he was more adopted than she was.

"So...do you want kids?" she asks tentatively.

Finnick sighs and looks around, taking in the tiny room and the underground shelter. "I hadn't really given it any thought, but it's hard for me to see this as a great time or place. You don't have it easy here, and I'm never around. I think if I did decide on kids, I'd want to do a better job by you and them than be disappearing all the time."

"Maybe forever," Annie reminds him. "I think a lot of these people getting married and pregnant with the war on are worried about being widows."

It's something that's always on her mind. More and more, she's started to imagine that having someone to take care of might be the only thing that could keep her going if Finnick never came back.

At the same time, she can also imagine that having to do all the work of child-rearing on her own, while grieving, would be the worst of all, for her and for the baby. It's hard to choose.

"So are we talking about marriage and kids now?" Finnick wonders.

Then Annie remembers that it's not just her and Finnick any more. "Just marriage, I guess. Until we're both sure. And Cashmere said she doesn't want—oh. Has she told you about her babies?"

"Her what?"

"Yeah." Annie makes a face, and then she tells him.

Finnick groans deeply. "Every time I think I know how horrific her life was, I get a glimpse of another part and find something worse. That poor girl."

"I know. I can't blame her for not wanting the responsibility. She thinks she's bad with kids, too. Because she keeps wanting to give them affection and praise and explain things to them. At the academy," she clarifies.

Finnick clenches his hands in frustration. "I have three kinds of memories growing up with Mags. One is of her being ultra demanding, quizzing me all the time, and setting high expectations. One is of me quizzing her and getting all my questions answered. The third is non-stop affection."

"She should be here," Annie laments. "She should be at our wedding."

"She made it possible," Finnick says tenderly. "In more ways than one. Does that mean we're having a wedding?"

"I suppose it does. Yes," Annie decides. "I want to go through with this."

* * *

"Annie and I are getting married!"

No matter how many times he says these words, they bring the same silly grin to Finnick's face. He only wishes he could say them more often, but he can't have everyone knowing where Annie is.

But he tells everyone he can justify telling, and the most important of these is Rudder. Finnick hates that every time he sees Rudder, he gets a pleasure-pain jolt of remembering Mags, but he can't help it. At least, if he can't tell Mags, he can tell one of his mentors.

"Annie and I are getting married!"

"Oh? Are you televising it?" Rudder asks.

Finnick blinks several times while his brain races to catch up. The grin is gone. _Oh, no, Annie's going to hate this._

Sick with dread, Finnick flounders for a way to get her out of this, when suddenly the answer hits him.

"Can't," he says brightly. "No one's supposed to know where she is, and if the guests are people like Beetee, everyone will figure it out pretty fast."

"Fair enough," Rudder says. "I thought you might be going home for the wedding."

Finnick stares at him. "Even if it was worth the risk, do you know how much she hates traveling? No, we're having it at her new home. Mayor Augustus has agreed to come officiate." With the Capitol out of the picture, laws around official marriages are uncertain, and most couples are making the same unofficial pledges in front of witnesses they've always made if they didn't want to go through the Capitol.

Finnick, though, doesn't want to take any chances. Whenever the new laws settle down into a written code, he wants it on record that he and Annie were married in the most official and unquestionable manner possible. He figures the mayor of District Three is his best bet.

"Either way, congratulations." Rudder hesitates, but rather than make him ask, Finnick says what he came to say.

"It'd mean a lot if you and the mayor could be free on the same day."

Is that a look of pleasure? "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Only later, thinking about how strange it is that he doesn't have to televise his wedding, that he can say no, does it hit Finnick how strange it is that he gets to choose at all.

He's been so over the moon that Annie's finally ready that he forgot that up until a couple years ago, he took it for granted that he'd eventually have to make a political marriage.

The most he'd dared want for himself was to be allowed to live with Annie during the off-season months. And it was Annie's scars more than Snow that prevented that.

So now, here he is making the arrangements, while a shock of realization jolts him every few seconds.

 _I can choose._

"So we'll have the ceremony in here, and we'll save up our rations for both meals and eat them all at once—Finnick?"

"Yes, sorry." Finnick focuses on what Silica is saying. "I'm paying attention."

 _I can choose._

"Annie says you want me to stay with her even after you're married?"

Finnick smiles at Cashmere and gives her a hug. "As long as you're both happy here. And we'd love to see you at the wedding."

 _I can choose._

He grins at Annie down the hallway, and she grins back.

 _I can choose._

* * *

Finnick drops everything he's doing when he sees Cashmere and Annie walk out arm in arm into to the lab, where he's been helping shuffle tables out of the way for the ceremony. A second later, he's halfway across the room and wrapping himself around Annie.

Annie hangs on to Cashmere and doesn't let her slip away to fade into the background while she kisses Finnick. "Cashmere did my hair," she brags, and Cashmere gives a small, pleased smile.

"I wish I could have dressed you up properly."

"You both look great," Finnick says with conviction, his arms still around Annie's waist. She's lost too much weight in the last year—they all have—but at least she's not the half-starved girl he met.

"Does this feel too good to be real to you too?" Annie murmurs, after she's pulled them all into a corner for a little privacy in the midst of the flurry of preparations.

"Oh, any moment now, I'm going to wake up in someone else's bed and be in trouble for mumbling the wrong name in my sleep."

Annie groans and releases Cashmere's hand to run her fingers through his hair. "That's all behind you now." She hesitates. "Did you ever? I never know what you really went through and what's too bizarre to be real."

Chuckling, Finnick touches his lips to her forehead. "When I was awake, I had a perfect track record of getting the right name. And when I was asleep...you know I hardly ever let that happen. But I think once or twice I got called on the wrong name and had to pass it off as a nightmare." Entwined with Annie like this, on their wedding day, remembering this feels like victory.

"Wow. Now you don't have to sleep alone ever again." Annie angles him deeper into the corner, barricading him there. "Well, I know you have to go back to war again soon. But the moment it's over, I am putting you to bed and not letting you go. You have years and years of sleep to catch up on."

"That sounds delightful." His heartfelt tone makes Annie smile, and Finnick smiles back. Then he glances up, because someone has stopped just behind Annie.

"Rudder! Glad you could make it."

Even at a time like this, Rudder doesn't smile, but in the nuances of his mentor's mask, Finnick's pretty sure he can read gladness. "I know you're having a Three ceremony, but I brought a rope. Also a wedding gift. For her. I have no idea what to get you."

Annie looks as surprised as Finnick feels. "You got me an Annie," he reminds Rudder, joking but meaning it at the same time.

"He saved my life twice!" Annie turns around and looks at Rudder over her shoulder. "Wait, what'd you get me?"

"You'll see."

Just then, Mayor Augustus calls out for the bride and groom to please come to the front and stop making out in dark corners, plenty of time for that later.

Snickering, Finnick and Annie obediently head to the front. As they pass Cashmere, Finnick gives her a huge smile, and Annie reaches out and grabs her arm, pulling her along. Surprised and touched, Cashmere follows and stands behind Annie. Just as Rudder is taking his place behind Finnick, Cashmere quickly straightens one of the ribbons in Annie's hair.

Then Joule comes over to Annie. "I didn't want to interrupt you earlier, but I made you a little something."

She puts a necklace over Annie's head, and Finnick and Annie bend over together to inspect the pendant hanging from it. "Oh, this is clever!" Annie exclaims, cradling it gently between her fingers.

"What is that, a lightbulb?" Finnick asks, trying to see.

"It's a lightbulb I twisted out of some spare wire," Joule explains. "It'll deform easily, but it should last you for today, at least."

Annie gives her a huge smile. "You all make me feel like I'm one of you."

"Well, you earned it, dear."

After Joule rejoins the audience, Rudder breaks out a length of rope from his pocket and passes it to Finnick.

The mayor watches curiously as Annie and Finnick start tying their wrists together. "Is that a Four tradition?"

"Yes," Annie answers, "it's called a lovers' knot."

"It's supposed to show off how well we work together by making us tie a knot with one hand each," Finnick adds. Then pulls his left arm away from Annie's right and slides it around her shoulders. "Wait, wait. Left to left."

"You're such a romantic." Annie laughs affectionately, and they begin retying, this time more awkwardly.

"Oh, sure, I'm not the one who brought the rope, but I'm the romantic here." Finnick ribs Rudder to cover his own discomfort. How did he forget the rope? How does every wedding he's ever imagined himself in take place in the Capitol? Who does he think he's getting married to, anyway?

Throughout the ceremony, Finnick stands in a daze with one arm around Annie, left arms tied together, and right hands clinging, while he repeats the mayor's unfamiliar words when prompted, barely hearing anything. Every ounce of his being is focused on Annie's skin against his. He wants her to hold tighter, leave marks, remind him that he's _here_. Just as his hands jerk involuntarily, Annie tightens her grip.

 _Don't let go._

 _I won't let go._

Finnick's emotions settle again, and the moment passes.

He's fully back to himself when Annie grabs him for a kiss afterward, and the audience laughs and cheers their enthusiasm.

Then Annie turns to hug Cashmere delightedly, and Rudder claps Finnick on the shoulder. "About time," he says. Underneath the two simple words, Finnick hears all the obstacles he and Annie have overcome, and he's grateful that someone else understands. But then he has to stop looking at Rudder, because it's reminding him too much of coming out of the arena the first time. He can't shake the illusion that if he can't see Mags, it's only because she's standing just below his line of vision, and if he only puts out his hand, it'll land on her shoulder.

And she would want Finnick to be happy today, so he has to stop thinking about her.

He gives Cashmere an uncomplicated hug after that, and then the dancing begins. This is District Three, so someone's scrounged up some music chips. Finnick doesn't know most of the songs, but they're meant for dancing to, and that's good enough for him.

Finnick dances mostly with Annie, of course, but also with Cashmere, and some of the engineers who are game for it. Annie insists on dancing with Cashmere too, and then she has friends she's made who want to celebrate with her. It all makes Finnick happy to see. Finally she turns to Beetee, sitting off to the side and watching the others.

"Come on, give me a hug at least," Annie says, flushed with happiness and exertion. "I'd dance with you if I could."

"I'm sitting it out too," Rudder says casually. That's when Finnick notices his old mentor has been wallflowering in a chair next to Beetee.

Beetee, when he's done hugging Annie, gives her a speculative look. "Well. The chair's pretty agile. And you don't get married every day. I'm willing to give it a go if you are."

Annie positively glows. "I'd love to!"

It takes them a bit to get the hang of it, but soon they're on the dance floor with everyone else.

Finnick raises an inviting eyebrow at Rudder. With just a flicker of narrowed eyes and eyeroll, Rudder manages to answer _Are you nuts?_ without a single word.

Finnick looks around for Johanna to share the joke, then feels silly. Wow, he's been spending more time in Seven than he realized.

"Too bad Johanna's not here," Finnick teases instead. "Double wedding!"

 _Definitely nuts._

"When is it eating time?" someone finally calls. "We saved up all our rations for this."

"It's eating time when Annie says it's eating time!" Finnick calls back, making everyone laugh.

"I like eating!" Annie chimes in.

The room's not big enough for both eating and dancing, so the tables and chairs have to be pulled back, and the music turned down.

"Cashmere, I want you on my other side," Annie says firmly, as Finnick is making sure there's not too much space between his chair and hers. "Rudder, what's my present?"

"Something to eat, obviously." Rudder's sitting between Finnick and Beetee. It always intrigues Finnick to see how victors are drawn to each other, even across district boundaries. Rudder passes a small object wrapped in tinfoil down to Annie. "It's not very much, and don't ask how I got it, but it's chocolate."

Annie actually screams, accepting it like it's made of gold. "I haven't had chocolate since the war started!"

"Definitely a romantic." Finnick tries to remember what he's been doing the past few days while Rudder was apparently finding time in between leading an army to add these little touches to Finnick and Annie's wedding. _Sleeping, I guess._ "Stolen, I assume."

"Spoils of war," Rudder corrects.

"Okay, but now we're going to do the romantic thing where we both take bites from each end until we meet in the middle," Annie orders Finnick. "And no one's going to say anything about it." She fixes Rudder with a stern look.

Rudder shrugs. "Like Beetee said, this doesn't happen every day. If you like chocolate too, then it's a gift for both of you."

"I wouldn't know," Finnick says, all wide-eyed fake innocence, looking straight at Rudder. "I've never had chocolate."

"You're such a liar." It's at times like this that Finnick is convinced Rudder has a sense of humor after all.

Finnick smirks. "I threw it up afterwards?"

"Doesn't matter!" Annie interjects. "I have chocolate, and I'm sharing it with my husband, because I have a husband and that's my new favorite sentence."

"And this husband is completely whipped, so I have to eat the chocolate." Finnick smirks again. "Conveniently."

"But I'm serious," Annie insists. "As soon as this war is over, I'm taking advantage of you being whipped to make sure you stay in bed and catch up on sleep, your sweet tooth, and our marriage. You've earned it."

"Yes, ma'am." Finnick looks to his right. "Rudder, I figured out what I want for my present. When I wake up tomorrow, I want to hear about how you won the war."

"Eat your chocolate, boy."

It may be silly, and it may be romantic, but making out with Annie while eating chocolate has to count as one of the high points of Finnick's life.

"Wait, no," Finnick says when they pull apart for air, "I think there might still be some on my teeth."

"Not for long," Annie promises, and leans in again, to groans and laughter.

"So how did you meet, how did you get together?" Mayor Augustus asks when they're done. "I assume it had to do with being victors, but that can't be the whole story. What?" he asks in confusion. The beginnings of a smile start forming involuntarily on his lips, even before he knows why Annie and Finnick are laughing. Every time they look at each other, they laugh harder.

"Well," Finnick finally says to Annie, when they've calmed down, "do you want to tell the train story?"

"You're the storyteller," Annie reminds him.

"Sure, but I mean, do you mind me telling the train story?"

"Why not? It makes us both look crazy."

So Finnick recounts the time Annie woke screaming from a nightmare on her Victory Tour, and Finnick broke down her door to get in. "To this day, I don't remember that part. I just had to get there, and...well, I've been described as a juggernaut. By the time I fully woke up, I was already in her room, with loose objects flying at me. She's still the bravest person I know."

"My side of this story," Annie says when he's done, "is that I may be crazy, but I have a pretty firm grip on reality. I don't have hallucinations or talk to the walls. The only time that grip gets fuzzy is when I'm waking up, and I need a few minutes alone to remind myself which parts were the dream, which parts really happened, and where I am right now. I didn't get those few minutes. I dreamed I was in the arena, screaming, and my screaming brought the Career pack down on me. Then I woke up, and there was just enough light to see a Career in my room. About thirty seconds later, he was gone. He can say he called in Mags and she sat with me, but I don't remember that part. I was so out of it I had no idea what was going on.

"I was desperately trying to sort out what was real and what wasn't. After a while, I came to the conclusion that I obviously wasn't in the arena, and that I had dreamed the Career. Then I decided that I must have been throwing things at something I hallucinated. I was convinced I was losing my mind, really losing it. Most of you here know me. As bad as my mental state is, it could be a lot worse."

Murmurs of agreement. "Oh, yeah!" "You're learning engineering!"

"That was," Annie says emphatically, "at the time, the absolute worst moment of my life to live through, outside of the arena. In hindsight, the Reaping was worse, but I was numb and in shock at the time. In hindsight, I wasn't actually losing my mind on the train, and no one hurt me, but at the time, I thought either I was hallucinating, or there was a real Career in my room brandishing a knife, and I didn't know which was worse."

Finnick is hanging his head, laughing and looking abashed.

The others laugh, but there's an uneasiness to it. "We asked how you got together," Joule points out. "This is starting to sound like a story of how you almost didn't get together."

"Indeed," the mayor adds, "I was expecting it to end in you comforting each other."

Finnick grins. "No, not that kind of story."

"It should be obvious," Annie says. "He's the only one crazy enough to keep up with me. We were always going to end up with each other."

"I must say," Rudder observes, "before Annie came along, we never had to spell out who the 'crazy' one was, at the academy. You could just say, 'that crazy kid,' and everyone would ask, 'What's Finnick up to now?' It gets to the point where you stop being surprised, and you just watch." Rudder's voice turns bored. "'Oh, he's cutting himself. I see. He's painting his face with blood. Uh huh. His own blood. Interesting. Wouldn't have thought of that.'"

The laughter has fewer restraints this time. Cashmere, though, turns to Annie to tease her. "So what does that say about me, if someone has to be crazy to keep up with you?"

Annie flounders, giggling, and Finnick comes to her rescue. "That I have the crazy more than covered," he fills in, "and now she's free to branch out."

"Yes, that!" Annie hastens to agree.

"I see," Cashmere says, satisfied. She puts her arm around Annie's waist. Annie touches her head to Cashmere's shoulder.

"Some similar traits, though," Finnick says, nudging Annie.

"Yeah?"

"Career who doesn't eat dessert?"

Annie starts laughing hysterically. "Okay, now I have to explain how we did get together." She talks about cooking, and the bakery cafe, and finishing Finnick's desserts after he'd tasted them. "He teased me that I needed to take up with more Careers who don't eat dessert. I thought he was crazy. I was terrified of Careers! But now, here I am. Cashmere doesn't have any dessert, but if she did-"

"And she will," Finnick interrupts. "Soon as this war's over."

"I'll get to eat it!" Annie finishes triumphantly.

"I'm glad to hear about all this self-control," Rudder says approvingly to Finnick, always the mentor. "You never know what Careers are going to do when you're not watching them."

"So training was pretty hardcore for you guys?" Beetee ventures.

Rudder exchanges a wordless look with Finnick. "I could describe hardships all day," Rudder tells them. "But I'll start with fasting." Rudder explains how the program gives its students food, sometimes the only food they get, but for the advanced ones who are training to be tributes, they get to exercise self-restraint. "We keep them hungry, put food in front of them, and make them ignore it and spar. Food can't be a distraction when you're fighting for your life. The same way we make them stay up all night and keep watch without falling asleep."

Then Finnick says his piece. "Rudder spent the entire time I was thirteen telling me the fasting program was carefully designed to inure seventeen-year-olds to hunger without harming them, but it was not designed for thirteen-year-olds. I was still shooting up like a weed, and he kept warning me fasting might stunt my growth. Which it obviously did," Finnick says with a straight face, "because he is six foot three, whereas I am only six foot two. These sacrifices-"

Here he's cut off by groans and jeers, and he grins. Annie rolls her eyes affectionately.

When the festivities end, and they're walking back to their room, Cashmere starts to break off and make for hers, saying good night.

But Annie's still got her arm tucked through Cashmere's. "Come on. Finnick doesn't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," Finnick tells them. "I'm happy either way."

"I'm more in the mood for being surrounded by family tonight than for having Finnick to myself," Annie explains to Cashmere. "Maybe some other night."

Opening the bedroom door, Finnick goes inside. He kneels by the bed and rearranges the piles of bedding to make a mattress wide enough for three. Cashmere hesitates by the door, next to Annie. "Family?" she echoes, disbelieving.

At the emotion in her voice, Finnick freezes, and Annie reaches out for her. "Of course! Cashmere-"

Cashmere stands in the circle of Annie's arms, without melting into the embrace the way she usually does. She has to get this straight. "This is probably a stupid question, but I have to be sure. Really, truly, actually family forever, or just something nice you say to someone to make them feel good but don't expect them to take literally?"

Finnick comes to his feet quickly and flings his arms around Cashmere, so that she's wrapped up between him and Annie.

"The forever kind," Annie tells her. "Like Gloss. I'm sorry if you thought you were still just the bodyguard. You've been family for a long time now."

Grateful to Annie, Finnick smiles at Cashmere. "See, Mags adopted me, then we adopted Annie, and now it's your turn."

" _Both_ of you?" Cashmere's shock is renewed. " _Mags_?"

"Mags would have loved you," Finnick assures her. "She would have been so glad you're here with us."

Slowly, Cashmere's guard starts to drop. Annie gives her an encouraging rub on the back. "You're not going to get burned if you let yourself believe this. We're not going to tell you one thing, change the rules on you, and act like it's your fault for not keeping up."

"Angel," Finnick adds, "I've been trying to convince you since the beginning that you're special and I'm not going to get bored and discard you. Is this what you needed to hear?"

"It's too good to be true," Cashmere says softly into his ear. "I always hear what I want to hear, and then I get burned."

"Not with us," Annie says gently. "Come on, let's get comfortable. Do you need to be in the middle now?"

"Not if you being in the middle means I'm family," Cashmere says, taking her new role seriously.

Finnick laughs, taking the spot by the wall. "Cashmere will now hold her post forever."

Annie slides into the middle. "I'll fall asleep soon. Then you two can move around if you want. It's just so snug here." She hugs Finnick.

"I'm glad, love," he whispers.

"And you really want me here on your wedding night?" Cashmere checks, one last time. "You're not being nice to me because I don't like being alone?"

Annie sighs. "You know how I can't bring myself to care who Finnick sleeps with? I'm so busy trying to stay alive that I don't have the luxury for doing things just because I'm supposed to, like making the wedding night this big, special, exclusive event. I spent the last week convinced the wedding wasn't going to happen—that someone was going to die, or there was going to be an attack, or Finnick was going to get called back to the front lines...and now that it's over and we're married, I can finally relax."

Annie's eyes are already starting to close, and she keeps forcing them open again. "I don't want to fall asleep. I don't want this to end."

"We'll be here when you wake up," Finnick assures her. He can't help adding humorously, "Two Careers, no hallucinations."

"You," she says, sticking her tongue out. "No disappearing after thirty seconds?"

"Promise."

Finnick and Cashmere hold her while she falls asleep, careful not to move and put her on guard again.

Once she's deeply asleep does Finnick whisper, "Come here, kitten."

Eagerly, Cashmere crosses carefully over Annie and climbs onto his lap. They sit and hold each other for a long time, while she gradually lets herself shut down.

After a while, knowing she doesn't have to do anything, not even listen to the predictable words that Finnick is whispering, only trust the tone of love and reassurance, she feels safe enough to bring up what's on her mind.

"Finnick? You know all my secrets, right? And if you don't, it's only a matter of time before you find out? So I might as well tell you?"

"That's right, sweetness. And you remember the promise I made you. Never to hurt you-"

"Only to protect me," Cashmere finishes with him. "Right. Well. I wasn't spying, I promise, but I overhear things sometimes. I can't help it. And I wanted to talk to you about this, not Annie, because...well, you'll see. I'm sorry, I'm doing this badly. Anyway, I overheard someone talking about Peacekeepers giving away food to the pretty ones, or the willing ones. I always thought that was normal, lots of people do it back in District One. But I overheard them talking about how glad they were that that's over now. And now you're married. I know you said there's nothing to be ashamed of, but I think I'm the only one who enjoyed selling my body." She hangs her head at the confession. "That's how I ended up giving it away for free."

Finnick, who made a point of enjoying every minute, whether he chose it or not, struggles to tell her what she needs to hear. His first instinct is to tell her that she did what she needed to do, but then he remembers how she reacted to him and Annie including her tonight. Taking a leap in the dark, he says, "Really? Then why aren't you doing it now?"

Cashmere stops, confused.

"Would you rather be out selling yourself now than be here with me and Annie?"

"No!"

"So, you were lonely. You were starved for closeness, and anything was better than being alone. But now you're part of a family, right?" Finnick prompts.

"That's what I always wanted," she admits. "You're right. I used to fantasize about being rescued. I thought it was just because I was so ashamed, but maybe you're right, maybe I was lonely too. You're saying I finally got my dream family?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Finnick hugs her tight. He tries to stay with her, enjoy the moment, but only a few minutes later he's out beside Annie, lulled into sleep by his own dream family.


	7. Chapter 7

The honeymoon is brief. Finnick tears himself away after only a couple days. "I'm sorry, but I have to keep drawing attention away from you. I can't afford for anyone to wonder why I'm spending so much time in Three."

"I'll be all right," Annie assures him. "Cashmere's here, and I'm building things and learning physics."

"I'm not going to understand anything you say soon," Finnick jokes through the pain of separation.

"I'll always translate for you," Annie promises. "Come back when you can. Be brave."

When they're done hugging, Finnick turns to Cashmere. "You still want to stay, sweetheart?"

"We're family, Annie and me," Cashmere tells him with a proud smile. "I'll keep her safe."

 _I'll keep her safe_ , Annie mouths from behind Cashmere.

When Finnick's gone and Annie's gathered herself together, she takes a deep breath. "I guess I'd better get back to work," she tells to Cashmere. "I've been away a few days, and there's a war on."

Beetee for once doesn't wait for Annie to come in. He's out in the lab talking with someone else, and he waves her into his private office.

"All right," Joule calls from across the room, "but I'm borrowing her later. I'm short-handed."

"And I haven't taught her about kinetics yet!" That's Elmer, her other science teacher, but he at least looks like he's joking.

Annie throws up her hands, laughing. "All right, I get it. You missed me!"

Inside Beetee's office, she's handed a bunch of schematics. "I drew those up along with some test plans. I need to know if they work as intended."

"Wow." Annie's still finds it hard to believe that after so little time, she's entrusted with so much. It may just be following directions, but it's so new that it's unreal. Exciting, too, to have learned so much so fast. A year ago, she wouldn't have understood the directions.

"We did miss you," Beetee says affectionately. "I'm happy for you. Still a little surprised, but it can't be denied that Hunger Games victors are statistically likely to end up together, if they end up with anyone."

"Mags said the same thing," Annie agrees. "Not that we're all identical, but the arena's a pretty big deal to have in common. Finnick and I agree we wouldn't have gotten to know each other without the Games. But now I can't imagine being with anyone else."

"Really?" Beetee says teasingly. "Cashmere's just a friend?"

Annie feels her face heat up. "Cashmere's family, and I can't imagine being without her now. But that's different."

Beetee smiles at her. "All the same, their experiences must have been very different from yours."

Annie nods emphatically. "Finnick and I had to learn to navigate our differences. With Cashmere it was easier, even though I still had to get past my fear of Careers. I feel bad about it, but Rudder still scares me a little. He saved my life, and I know he wouldn't hurt me, but I haven't lost the instinct to hide when I see him."

Beetee's expression grows wistful. "Rudder's been...my victor I wouldn't have ended up with except for the Hunger Games. I didn't see it coming either. I didn't use to like Careers any better than you did. But he does understand, and I feel more alive when I'm with him. And he actually smiles sometimes, so I have to assume he does too."

Annie gapes. "You and Rudder?!"

"What, because I'm in a wheelchair I'm not a whole man any more?" Beetee flares at her. "I'm supposed to be content with half a life and fade into the background?" He pushes away from the table and starts wheeling away.

"No, no!" Annie rises and throws out her hands. "I didn't mean you! Beetee! Listen."

Still angry, Beetee stops by the door and glares at her, waiting for an explanation.

Annie talks as fast as she can through the humiliation of putting her foot in it. "I grew up in the same district with Rudder. Do you know what his reputation is like? Totally emotionless. Living for his work and nothing else. That was a 'Rudder has a personal life?!' reaction."

Beetee narrows her eyes at her, as if to say, _That's a really good backpedal, now convince me it's true._

"Which is silly, I know," Annie continues, "and I shouldn't have said it. Do you think anyone was less surprised when I ended up with Finnick? I doubt my sister would have believed me if I'd told her. Finnick was surprised when he could have a conversation with me. I was just the mad girl to everyone. Come on," Annie urges, "it wasn't about you. Not from me. People see me as just as crippled as you."

"Mentally, maybe," Beetee mutters, deflated. Without looking at her, he starts moving back to the work table.

Annie waits for him to retake his spot, and then nudges him until he meets her eye. "You think being paralyzed with fear doesn't affect my sex life?" she says very softly. "You can have everything below the waist in perfect working order and not be able to let anyone near it."

Beetee looks compassionately at her then, all his anger gone, or at least not directed at her. "I never thought about it. If I had, I suppose I'd have thought with someone you trusted, you wouldn't be afraid."

"So I can have sex with him sometimes. You'd be surprised at how many times I can't. Or that I might want to have sex with other people. You think trusting Finnick means I can just switch off the fear of everything in the world for an hour. I wish it worked like that. He certainly does."

"All right. I'm sorry I was so defensive."

"I'm sorry I reacted to Rudder's reputation and assumed _he_ only had half a life. I'm glad." She smiles. "Maybe I can even be less afraid of him if I think of him as the guy in your life."

Beetee smiles back. "It's possible I underestimated how difficult it is for you."

Annie presses her lips together, trying to think how to explain. "Beetee? I trust you. And Cashmere. The only two people anywhere near me right now. And yet I'm sitting here thinking, what if the roof collapses? What if there's an earthquake? What if there's an earthquake and a pipe bursts and the whole compound floods? I can swim, Cashmere can swim, but what about the rest of you? I'd feel terrible if anything happened to you guys. And if there's a cave-in, I can't swim through dirt and rubble."

Beetee groans. "I did, I underestimated. I can tell you that we've done our best to design this structure to withstand earthquakes. We have a lot of quakes, we know what we're doing. We'll even be locked down against outside attack soon. But I can't tell you that's a completely irrational fear, when it _happened to you_."

"Did you feel my earthquake?"

"I didn't, in the Capitol. But it was felt here. Mags asked me to find out and tell her next year. It was a clue to the location of the arena."

"Did anyone die?"

Beetee squirms, but he can't lie to her. "Some. Not many. None underground that I'm aware of."

"What about your tributes?" She's relentless. "They couldn't swim, could they?"

Beetee nods reluctantly. "It's not your fault."

"No. It wasn't your tributes' fault either, that they couldn't swim, but they still died. It turns out that it doesn't have to be my fault for bad things to happen. And the difference between me and you, between me and most people, is you can know it's true and still carry on the same as if it wasn't true. You can sit here in this room with me, with the same odds of an earthquake and lower odds of surviving it, and not be thinking every minute about the roof collapsing.

"I'm sure you don't want anything to happen to Rudder, but Cashmere has died a dozen deaths in my head today, and every one was because I was a liability. And in none of them could I have done anything to save her."

"Oh, Annie."

"You don't have to say anything," Annie tells him matter-of-factly. "Mags tried, Finnick still tries...Sometimes nothing gets through."

Beetee nods sympathetically, unable to come up with the magic words that will make everything right. They work in silence for a while, Annie concentrating too deeply to ask questions about science.

Then Beetee surprises her with a question of his own. "Do you ever think about whether you'd rather have a damaged mind or body?"

Annie strips the insulation off the wire she's holding. "Sometimes. More now that I've gotten to know you. On the one hand, the grass is always greener on the other side. On the other, if someone offered me the chance to trade places with you...making a leap like that would be hard. At least I know my own problems, you know?"

Beetee laughs nervously. "I thought I was the only one who felt like that. You know...I always thought of myself as a pure creature of the mind. My body was only a vessel for my brain. But then I lost the use of my lower body, and I realized how much I'd taken basic mobility for granted. Your independence really takes a hit, especially at first.

"Then I thought about how Wiress was able to get work done with all her difficulties, and now you...and then I started thinking if I had my body and my intelligence, but were a bit mad, it could be worse. But then I hear you describing it, and I remember how Wiress was every bit the smartest one in the arena and _could not_ communicate what she was thinking...so now, I don't know. I have no idea how I'd cope with that level of fear. It sounds like hell."

"It is," Annie says quietly. "But it's not like we get to choose. So, I'll keep my problems, and you keep yours, and we'll be travel companions on the journey through hell."

Beetee reaches out and takes her hand. "Companions in hell. You look like you're getting a bit better, though. Which is not something that looks like an option for me."

"Sometimes I think I'm getting better," Annie agrees. "And then something happens to set me back. Like the Quarter Quell, or the Capitol hunting me, or the evacuation to a different shelter...all I'm doing is waiting for the next one to come along, and trying not to be a dead weight until then. Cashmere's the only reason I can leave my room and work."

Later that night, in their room, Cashmere surprises Annie pleasantly by speaking without being spoken to. They've come a long way.

"Annie? I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Beetee. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"No, it's okay. I know you must be bored to death out there. We'll talk more quietly if we don't want to be heard through the door."

"I'm not bored," Cashmere insists. "Anyway, I was just wondering...would you feel any safer if you knew how to use a weapon?"

Annie shakes her head hard. "Do you know how many times people have suggested that? I'd have an episode if I even touched a weapon."

"What about a slingshot?" Cashmere suggests, undeterred. "Weren't you throwing rocks when you were attacked? Finnick said you threw things at him on the train."

Her lack of visceral fear at that idea takes Annie by surprise. "No," she insists from force of habit, but then she says, "Let me think about it."

Somehow, rocks aren't really a weapon to her. They're improvised self-defense, completely different from a knife or a spear. If Cashmere's willing to die to protect her, maybe she can at least help out. Maybe she could have helped Evan more, without going full-out Career.

"Even if you never end up having to fight," Cashmere elaborates, "you can hunt birds, squirrels, rabbits...You've killed fish, right?"

"I can kill fish in my sleep," Annie boasts. "I wouldn't have a problem killing a bird. And small game would have been useful in the arena. I helped Evan get food when I could, but there's not always a body of water when you want one. I had to eat a lot of insects after he was gone."

"We could start practicing in this room." Cashmere looks around. "It's small, but just to teach you the basics of loading and firing, and start your aim on short distances. Then maybe a larger room. We don't even have to go outside for a long time."

"You've taught weapons before," Annie remembers, and Cashmere nods.

"Fifteen years at the academy."

"And I bet you were good at it, unlike a certain someone I could mention."

Cashmere gives a tiny smile. "They'd have said if I wasn't good."

"All right," Annie agrees. "I'll give it a try. If I don't panic, we'll see how it goes."

It goes surprisingly well. Cashmere pulls out her usual trick with nervous or homesick students, and stands behind Annie and puts her arms around her to demonstrate. It was Cashmere's way of getting affection past surveillance. At the time, it made some of the children instinctively gravitate toward her, and now it helps calm Annie before she can tense up.

Knowing also that Annie has horrible memories of being attacked by people, Cashmere finds a piece of chalk and draws a rabbit on the wall of their room. "There. Is that a rabbit?" she asks, sitting back on her heels and surveying her work critically. "Back home, we'd have holograms," she apologizes.

"I don't know," Annie laughs. "I don't know how to draw a rabbit. Make the ears longer," she suggests, leaning over Cashmere's shoulder.

Cashmere obliges. "And a fuzzy cotton tail too." She lays the chalk flat against the wall and swirls it in a circle. "Maybe we can get a hologram here if we ask."

Before she can get up, Annie throws her arms around her where she's kneeling. "The first thing I ever heard about you was that you were a sweetheart, and that was definitely an understatement."

"Should we name it?" Cashmere asks, smiling.

"We can't name it!" Annie protests. "We're going to kill it. Okay, it's name is Dinner."

Dinner takes a lot of dents in the the following days. Cashmere's gentle enough that Annie, barricaded safely in her own room, manages to train without being reminded of the arena, and patient enough that Annie gets past her initial "I'm not any good at this!" and into being able to kill poor Dinner at close range.

"We'll have to find a bigger room," Annie suggests one day, well after they really should have. She's grateful to Cashmere for letting her wait until she was ready.

"Also," Annie says, while she's got her courage summoned up, "there's something I've been meaning to ask. If Peacekeepers are trying to capture me, how do I slow them down? I know I can't fight off even a single Peacekeeper, much less a whole band of them, but what I can I do to make it not so easy for them?"

Cashmere nods. "The basics of self-defense? I can teach you that too."

* * *

Seeing Annie blossom in District Three is all that's allowed Finnick to stop tearing himself apart over the jabberjay episode. He endangered her, she escaped, she ended up in a good place.

But it also makes the passing of time more obvious. She's leading a whole life that he's not there for. It's like coming back to District Four to find that she renovated her kitchen. Time doesn't stand still when he's away.

So when Finnick arrives one night to find Annie and Joule working late, he decides to stay in the common area, be part of her life for this little while.

Annie smiles up at him when she sees him. "I'm just finishing up."

"Take your time," Finnick tells her. He pulls over a chair and positions it so he can lean mostly over hers. While she works, he plays with her hair.

"Okay, I have a question," Finnick says, during a lull in the conversation between Annie and Joule. "How do snow caves work? I know how to make one, but...you put yourself inside snow to avoid freezing to death?"

Annie looks with interest at Joule, but Joule just looks back at her. "You should be able to figure this one out."

Annie's taken aback and pleased at the same time. "Oh! Okay. Let me think." After a few minutes of pondering, she asks, "Can I get a hint?"

"Thermodynamics," Joule gives her.

Finnick howls. "That's a hint? I knew it was only a matter of time before I stopped understanding you."

"It's the study of heat," Annie explains, then resumes pondering.

A bit later, Joule offers "equilibrium" without being prompted.

"Okay," Annie says finally. "I think I've got it. You know how when you mix hot and cold water, you end up with lukewarm water?"

"I know that much," Finnick agrees.

"Right. So what happens is the heat from the hot water spreads to the cold water, until it's all evened out. That's the equilibrium part. Well, when you put your body, which is warm, in cold air, the heat from your body spreads out to the cold air. The problem is that the air is really, really big. It goes on for miles."

"If you put a bottle of hot water in the ocean, the ocean won't warm up, but the bottle will cool down," Finnick translates. "All right, I'm with you so far."

"So you have to keep the air from going on for miles. That's where the cave comes in."

"Okay, that makes sense of why rock caves are warmer. But won't the heat from your body make the snow warmer too?"

Annie says hesitantly, "Yes, but not as fast?" She looks at Joule for confirmation. When Joule looks approving, Annie continues with more confidence, "It's like mixing the hot water with cold water in a glass. It'll technically make the glass warmer too, but it's not going to melt the glass. The heat from the water will mix with the cold water and then stop when it's all evened out."

"Annie's mostly got it," Joule says when Annie's done. "You will melt some of the snow, especially in proximity to your body, and the heat of the air will slowly escape to the outside through whatever hole you left to keep from suffocating. This is why you can still freeze to death in a snow cave. It just slows the process down by trapping the heat your body gives off. It's not true equilibrium, just much closer to it.

"The other important factor is that the cave will block the wind. The reason wind cools you is that it blows away the air near your body that's just been warmed, so the air immediately up against your skin is cooler, which causes your body to lose more heat, which is blown away again."

"Oh, right, the wind," Annie says. "That makes sense, should have remembered wind chill."

"Very well, I'm satisfied," Finnick says with an air of generosity. "Is this what you do all day, Annie, ask questions?"

"Pretty much, ask questions and build things. Meanwhile, almost done...Done!" Annie sets her finished product down for inspection by Joule, who shoos her off immediately.

"Run along, dear. If I need anything more, I'll ask in the morning. Have yourselves a good night."

"Happy here?" Finnick asks on their way out.

Annie makes a noncommittal sound. "Happier than I'm going to be anywhere else. In a way, it's easier than being back home. Maybe because we're fighting back and we can talk freely, maybe because I have meaningful work to do, maybe because I have Cashmere."

"Where is she, by the way? In your room?"

"She's above ground exercising, maybe training. She only goes up in the dark, so no one knows the entrance is here and so no one knows she's in Three."

Finnick nods. He has to do the same. "You're okay with her being gone, then?"

"I'd still rather have her close by, but I'm more comfortable in this shelter now. It's become familiar, and I have friends, so I don't need her every minute."

Finnick is relieved beyond words. Knowing she was locked in that tiny room all the time, frightened of capture, not knowing anyone...imagining her was hell. He's glad it's easier for her now. When he has to leave, he'll imagine her building things, with her new friends.

Once in the room, Finnick falls onto the bed.

"Keeping busy?" Annie asks, smiling, as she joins him.

"That, and I started relaxing myself when I was touching your hair," he admits.

"Well, come here, then." She envelops him in her arms and tucks her head under his chin, giving him perfect access to her hair. Finnick starts at her scalp, eliciting a deep moan of contentment from her, and weaves his way down her back.

"It's good to see it all grown out again." He may wish she could put back on the weight she lost, but at least he's got one tangible reminder that she's safe, that she hasn't had to disguise herself lately. This is the Annie hair, the way it should be.

"Having it short just reminds me of...that night. How come yours is so short?"

"Lice prevention. It's mandatory in the military. I'd actually rather grow it out now that I don't have to look exactly like I did when I was fourteen, but..."

"After the war," Annie says encouragingly. "How is it going? I don't mean politically, I actually hear a lot down here, but for you?"

Finnick opens his mouth, but nothing comes. He's always talked to Annie, always felt like his whole life was one long conversation with her, but somewhere along the line he stopped saving up things to tell her. When did that happen?

It's not like the Capitol, where he had to keep his two lives separate or lose his mind. It's just that he doesn't even know where to start.

He wishes he could talk to her about Ashe, but he'd have to tell her about the time he almost died, and he'd have to try to summarize the Seventy-Seventh Hunger Games without making her relive hers, and that's all just too much nightmare fuel for her.

Even more than that, so much has happened that they'd be here half the night while he goes back and keeps explaining the part that doesn't make sense unless you were there.

No, it's not worth it. Not when Johanna already understands. If he and Annie are leading such different lives they don't even have the time to catch up when they meet, it's temporary. Once the war is over, they can go back to talking to each other about anything and everything.

Finnick makes a soft, helpless sound, and Annie pats his shoulder understandingly. "When you're not tired, then."

 _She still knows me_ , he thinks gratefully.

For now, it's amazing to feel her at peace like this, to listen to her quiet moans of relief, to feel the remaining tension seeping out of her body, and to feel her body molding itself to his. This is enough.

Then Finnick gives an annoyed grunt and shifts his hips away from hers. "Sorry," he mutters. Instinctively, he begins the mental litany that he uses to switch his body off at inconvenient moments.

But Annie smiles and slides her hands lower. "No worries, I've got this one. I'm good with my hands, remember?"

Still, Finnick hesitates. "If you don't mind-"

"You're tired, relax, it'll be my turn some other night."

He wants to protest, but he really is too tired to perform without making a conscious effort that he knows Annie wouldn't want, and it's hard to ignore her in bed when she's bossy like this.

"Then when Cashmere gets back, if you're still awake, it'll be snuggle time. I've been hoping you have better sex with her than with me—Oh, you do!" Annie starts laughing maniacally. "I said her name and you reacted, and then you reacted even harder when I mentioned sex with her."

"Annie!" Finnick protests, groaning. "Don't, stop, you can't." She's impossible.

"I can't what?" she teases saucily. "Oh, I can do anything with you. Wow, this is power."

"You can't lie here and touch me and make me think about her. When I'm with you, I don't think about anyone else."

"I know," Annie says. "Your sex life is all fenced off with restrictions. I'm planning to knock down some of these fences."

To prove it, Annie leans in and starts nuzzling him right at the base of his neck. Finnick's helpless before she even reaches his ear. Straight for the jugular, as always.

He can barely scrape together words to answer her question, which she has to ask twice before he can comprehend.

"Did you finally meet someone you have amazing chemistry with?"

"Yes," Finnick admits with a moan. "Annie, please."

Her hands are slowing on his body. "What's she like? Is she as submissive in bed as she is out of it, or does she get wild and crazy?"

"Annie! What are you doing?!"

"Getting you all worked up. This is fun."

Finnick's panting under Annie's touch. He can't stop the influx of images in his mind. Annie on one side, Cashmere on the other. Outnumbered, outflanked, overwhelmed. He wouldn't stand a chance against those two.

He whimpers hard, and he can't stop, not even when he remembers Annie asked him a question. She's got her mouth against his throat again, resting there so she can feel the vibrations. "I love how noisy you are," she murmurs. "It's the sexiest thing about you."

Finnick knows that's her favorite, and it's good, because he can't help it.

"Please, Annie."

 _Please_ always means he wants to be teased, denied, made to work for it. She gives him orders and he begs, and together they push his submissive buttons until he _can't_ do anything without her telling him to. A few minutes ago, he was holding back from throwing himself at her; now he couldn't move if he tried. Annie gets under his fucking skin.

Whether submission is a kink he was born with or just the easiest way for him to go with the flow instead of turning this into a job, neither of them has ever been sure. Maybe someday it'll be important to figure that out.

"Tell me what she's like," she murmurs, and he can't deny her.

"She likes being taken care of. She's spent her whole life servicing her partners. I had to work to convince her that it was okay, but to her, it's too good to be true."

Annie shakes her head, and kisses him again, this time in a less sensitive area. Still hot, and Finnick tilts his jaw closer to her mouth, silently asking for more. Her lips brush against his face while she speaks. Each word is a warm breath, and he wishes she would go on speaking forever.

"And you've spent your whole life—what?" Annie asks as she nuzzles. "Shutting down your own needs to manipulate other people, being patient with my jumpiness, bending over backwards not to take advantage of someone whose whole mindset is sex slavery?"

"No, it's different," Finnick insists. "It's the touch. You know how I am about touch."

"I know," Annie says.

"She's the only one I've met who's the same way. She-Look, this isn't a criticism."

Annie slides her fingertips down his chest, raising goosebumps through the thin fabric of his shirt. "I know. You have chemistry with her. Tell me what chemistry means for you," she coaxes.

"It means being able to touch, all the time. Casually in public. Clinging to each other in private. Tangled up in our sleep. It means never having to decide that we're going to have sex now. Just touching, constantly, doing whatever we feel like in the moment. It means we're never out of sync. Because even if she's screaming in pleasure and I'm not even a little aroused, there is absolutely nothing in the world that's better than being able to touch her and feel her respond. Was that too much information?"

Annie gives him a huge smile. "No, that was perfect. Wow, you're turned on right now. This is amazing. How do you think she'd feel about joining us?"

Finnick chokes. He can't keep up with this woman.

"Tell me you've never had a threesome," Annie challenges.

"I've had a lot of things—in the Capitol!"

"Look, if I can't relax during sex, it's not because I'm inhibited. It's because I'm terrified, all the time. Anyway, I can tell you love this idea, I was asking about Cashmere. I don't want her feeling like she has to make herself available to everyone who's interested."

She's trying to be logical, and he's got her hands on him and images of Cashmere burning behind his eyelids. "Annie..." Finnick's voice trails off. He clears his throat. "Annie, ask me again about threesomes when I can think, okay?"

"All right." Annie laughs and takes pity on him. "I can see I'm only going to get one answer out of you right now."

Later, when Finnick has recovered from the shock waves of Annie's hands and Annie's wild ideas, he picks up the proposal again. "Can I ask where this came from?"

"I'm the crazy girl?" Annie shifts up on one elbow, smirking. "But more seriously, I think the dynamics would work. She likes being taken care of; I need to be calling the shots if I'm not going to panic; and you like taking orders, or at least that's your comfort zone."

Finnick snickers. "So you're saying we're all kinds of messed up, but we're messed up in compatible ways."

"I'm saying..." Annie says with a devious light in her eyes that gets his attention fast, "I like to top and she likes to bottom."

 _Fuck_. Finnick can't breathe. _Oh fuck. I need to be in the middle._

She's right, Finnick has to admit. He and Annie have found some ways of working around the fact that they're usually not in sync, but it does take work. Usually he finds it reassuring, but he knows Annie finds it frustrating, and if they don't have to...well. Surely he knows by now that Annie's not after his body. It's about time for some good sex.

"I'll see what she thinks," Finnick promises.

* * *

Annie knows that if ever being observant was important, it's now. If she's not careful, Cashmere will tear herself apart in the effort to please her and Finnick, and convince herself she's letting them down.

Finnick's fragile in different ways. More sure of himself, but only here because he trusts Annie.

In the face of all this responsibility, Annie's never felt more confident.

She directs a warm smile at Cashmere, who's looking around and waiting to see what's expected of her. Like Finnick, she's had threesomes and orgies, but this is different. She's not exactly nervous, but on alert. Annie reminds her very gently, "No acting here. No performing. Finnick, that goes for you too."

"Performing or taking orders, those are your options," Finnick tells Annie, flippant as always.

"Then you'd better call me 'ma'am'," Annie returns, making Finnick laugh. Then she places a hand on his shoulder. "It really is one or the other, isn't it?"

Finnick shrugs, not quite concealing the edge of discomfort at the question. "You tell me." Underlying his words are memories of all the times she's insisted he was performing when he didn't think he was.

Annie squeezes his shoulder. "All you two have to do tonight is relax."

"You'll tell me if you want anything?" Cashmere asks, looking from Annie to Finnick and back.

"All I want is for you to lie back and let us make you feel good." Obediently, Cashmere leans back against the pillows, with permission to do what she calls shutting down and what Annie calls _stop fucking obsessing over whether you're mind-reading well enough_.

"Love," Annie says to Finnick, "I'm going to take care of making sure it's good for me and Cashmere. That's not your job tonight."

"No making it perfect?" Finnick looks to Annie for reassurance. He knows how that works in theory, only...

"No making it perfect," Annie confirms. "I want you to concentrate on your body, on how it's feeling."

"I'll try," he promises.

[For an actual sex scene that would violate FFN's TOS, visit this chapter on AO3: /works/12525524/chapters/28759560]

Afterward, Finnick catches himself trying to apologize for not making it perfect, but Annie's not done giving orders. "Come on, lie down in the middle. I know what you need. There. You did exactly what I wanted. I told you, I'm breaking down barriers."

"You sure broke one down," Finnick finally marvels, when they've all recovered a little. "I've never—I've enjoyed a lot of sex in my time, don't get me wrong. But I've never been able to let urgency be a part of it. I always had to be in control of my reactions. I didn't even realize how much, until I could feel the urgency trying to break through tonight, and then my instinct, to shut it out. I still couldn't give into it, not all the way, but I think maybe with practice I could do better."

Annie laughs. "Don't worry, there'll be plenty of practice. And that's what I wanted. To let your body feel what it's feeling, because you know you can last as long as I tell you."

"That sounds like a weird contradiction, but it made sense in my-"

"Head?" Annie teases.

Finnick grins. "Body. I think with my body, you know that. Speaking of which...Cashmere, you happy?"

Cashmere stretches lazily with her arms around him. She doesn't need words to answer. "Annie?" she asks with her head resting on Finnick's arm.

"Yes, dear?"

"Can you make him do that again? I've never seen him like that."

Finnick laughs.

"You think it's me. He's never done that with me either."

"You don't know what it's like," Finnick says in wonder, "being in the middle."

"This is where we're going to keep you."

Annie makes good on her promise.

Finnick's favorite is always whatever they're doing right now, but sometimes he thinks his true favorite is simply lying on his side, Annie plastered to his back, and Cashmere nestled as close as she can get, for as long as they want.

Annie reaches across him, Cashmere reaches back, and then suddenly he's lying in the middle while they caress each other. It's the best moment of his life.

In a way, it just makes it worse when he has to give it up.

Finnick wakes on his last day with a wave of anguish washing over him. Trying to get it under control, he buries his face in Cashmere's hair and tells himself it's not so bad. Annie's thriving here, and she and Cashmere have each other.

It's just that he always comes here expecting it to be home, but it gets harder and harder to pick up where they left off. So they've been letting themselves settle into a comfortable place of sleep, sex, and small talk. Now he has to leave again, and when he comes back, it'll be harder still.

He doesn't know any Annies who are learning to be engineers, and she doesn't know Finnick the soldier.

"Can't sleep?"

Annie's voice whispering in his ear. From behind, her hand slides up his back to rub his neck, then brush over his temple. "You're crying. What's wrong?"

He can't bring himself to talk about the shock of familiarity and strangeness at being here, so he only says, "I just miss you both so much."

"I wish you could stay," Annie says wistfully. "I know you can't. But I wish you could."

Rudder's made the offer. Finnick can stay in Three, see Annie and Cashmere as often as he wants. But every time Finnick feels the temptation creeping up on him, the jabberjays invade his nightmares, and they give him the strength to stay far, far away from Annie. If no one knows she's here, she'll be safe.

The possibility of staying in this bunker, where the enemy can't trace his movements to Annie, is one he entertains only in his loneliest moments, but he can't shame himself like that. Mags lived alone for decades and sustained her unflagging dedication to the cause, until at last she gave her life to it. Finnick can't just shrug off the fact that he's needed, that he has an array of skills and contacts that can't be lightly thrown away.

A distant echo of Mags' voice comes to him.

 _You're the only one..._

In the midst of this struggle for self-control, he remembers that even if he wanted to stay, Annie has bad days when he would have to leave. So it's not really like having a home.

"I can't," Finnick finally says. "But when the war is over..."

Annie wraps her arms around him. "When the war is over, you can stay in bed with me all day," she promises.

Finnick smiles through the tears. "Can I really?"

"And you won't have any problems to solve, because they've all been solved, so you won't have insomnia."

"That'll be nice." It's hard to believe, but it sounds nice. "And when I'm lounging around all day like this, can I be in the middle?"

"Always. Except sometimes I'll get up to cook, but then we'll all eat in bed."

"With food fights?" Finnick asks eagerly.

Annie chokes on a laugh. "If you want to have food fights in bed, then that's exactly what we'll do. Pillow fights too. And I'll make you eat cheesecake." When Finnick hesitates, she adds quickly, "Not as much as me, of course. But at least one piece, you and Cashmere both."

Cashmere stirs, and both Finnick and Annie go very still until she's safely asleep again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said her name," Annie whispers. "She's usually such a deep sleeper."

"Do you sometimes wish you could sleep deeply," Finnick asks, "but...?"

"But you know you'll die if you do? Exactly."

Just that statement helps Finnick relax a little more. Annie's not turning into a stranger; she understands him.

"But when the war is over, we can both sleep as deeply as we want. And we can go fishing, and," she concludes triumphantly, "we don't have to catch anything!"

Finnick flips over onto his stomach and turns his head to face Annie. "This is all sounding delightful and unbelievable. I can't imagine what I'd do on a fishing trip where I didn't have to catch anything."

"Well, come here and I'll tell you a story about two women, a man, a boat—and yes, a water fight."

"You read my mind." He nestles closer. "Make it a long, detailed story where nothing happens, and maybe I'll fall asleep."

"That's the plan, love."


	8. Chapter 8

Cashmere can't explain most of what goes on in her head. It doesn't make sense even to her. She can see that Annie is trying to make her life easier. No one's ever tried to do that before, before Finnick rescued her, and Cashmere doesn't understand why she's no less scared than before.

Right now, for instance, Annie is talking animatedly about electrons. Cashmere's trying desperately to pay attention, because Annie's so kind to her, and this isn't much to ask. But she's lost, and every time she tries to catch up enough to come up with a question, she finds herself thinking about everything she's doing wrong.

"And then the outermost shell—I'm boring you. I'm sorry, I'll stop." Annie's hands, which were sketching a sphere in midair, fall to her lap.

"No, no! I'm happy to listen, I promise! It's better than being alone." She knew it, she's letting Annie down because she can't even pay attention to a simple conversation.

"That's what I'm saying," Annie insists. "You don't have to pretend to be interested to be allowed to stay."

"No, but I do." Cashmere hangs her head. One thing she hates about this insistence on honesty is constantly having to admit she has no interests. At least when she was entertaining lovers, nobody could see past the facade. "You'll get bored with me."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Annie says gently. "You live here. You're family."

"I know, and that's what I'm afraid of losing. I know I'm going to screw it up." Cashmere lives in a state of dread, because she's always trying to postpone the inevitable. "I always get it wrong. l always miss something that no one else had to have explained to them. You're very patient, but no one can be patient forever."

Annie's frustrated. "Look, if there's something I want, I'll tell you. I promise."

"I know that's what you try to do. But maybe you don't even realize you're doing it, but you expect me to be like other people, normal people, and one day that's going to bite us both."

"I don't believe it," Annie says, folding her arms. "I don't believe there's anything that can't be worked out by explaining. For example, I can explain to you right now that I don't mind if you don't want to listen to me talk about science, or if you want to listen and not pay attention. We can work that out."

Cashmere looks at Annie curiously. "Listen and not pay attention? But how would that help? Or do you mean I can pretend to pay attention, but you won't quiz me on it?"

"No, definitely don't pretend. I mean that I'm trying to understand something complicated, and it's easier if I have someone to talk to. You know Elmer, he said he used to have a picture of his older sister on his desk, because she used to share her lessons with him when they were growing up, and I carved a face on a piece of wood for him to talk to. It's not a very good face, but he says it helps. I'm not saying you're a block of wood!" Annie exclaims, holding up her hands.

Cashmere laughs with her. "No, I understand." She remembers sitting with Annie while she did the carving.

"I'm just saying," Annie continues, "that talking out loud forces me to admit when I only half-understand something, or helps me to put two pieces together that I hadn't connected before. And I feel less self-conscious talking to you than to the twenty smartest engineers in District Three. I come up with specific questions, and then I can ask them and look smart. Or smarter, at least, than wasting their time rambling about entry-level physics that I'm just starting to understand."

"So I can help just by being here?" The prospect fills Cashmere with relief that knocks another little chip of fear away. "Like when Finnick just wants someone to hold on to while he calls me angel and princess?"

"Exactly. Love words from him, physics from me."

Cashmere laughs. "That's kind of sweet, Annie."

Annie gives her a huge, warm smile. "Think of it as _I'm glad you're here. I'm glad I'm not alone. I'm glad I have someone I trust. I don't think I could learn physics if you weren't here to help me relax_."

Impulsively, Cashmere hugs her. "I do want to pay attention, really I do. I'm not bored. I'm just not very good at concentrating."

"I have trouble concentrating sometimes," Annie admits. "I start thinking about everything that could go wrong. That's why you're the only reason I can do physics. Most of the time, I can tell myself that you'll handle anything that goes wrong, and when I can't, I come back to our room and let you hold me until it passes."

Cashmere was touched and relieved when Annie started wanting to cling to her during her episodes. It means she's doing something right, and not just being allowed to stay because Annie feels sorry for her.

She shifts slightly and gives Annie a questioning look, and Annie smiles and comes over to snuggle. She puts her head on Cashmere's shoulder and muses, "I'm always so embarrassed when I zone out and they ask a question, and it looks like I wasn't smart enough to follow what they were saying, when I was, I just couldn't hear them because I was straining for the sound of an army knocking down the door."

Cashmere sighs a deep, involuntary breath. She can't believe Annie understands—that anyone understands. "I'm not smart enough to understand physics, but sometimes I can't even hear the words," she agrees.

Annie nods. "So don't be embarrassed. Not with me. Just remember I do the same thing."

They're quiet after that, and Cashmere can't stop smiling.

"Annie? You know how you said that only Finnick is crazy enough for you? Do you think I could be crazy for you too? I'd rather be crazy than stupid."

"You and Finnick...you're better at making it look like nothing's wrong than I am, but the longer I know both of you, the more I see that looks familiar. Maybe none of us are crazy. Maybe...I wish I had a word for it." She thinks. "Maybe victors just have scars."

* * *

Annie's counting sheep, fish, Finnicks, anything she can think of to slow her rapidly whirling brain down, telling herself that there's really no point to imagining everything that could go wrong if there's an earthquake, if the Peacekeepers find them, if Cashmere decides she can't take the tedium anymore and wants to leave...

On the bed behind her, she feels Cashmere shifting and shifting, and hears her breathing change. It takes Annie a minute, but then she recognizes the patterns. Normally she ignores them, but tonight, on an impulse, she turns over.

Cashmere freezes. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up? I'll be quiet, I'll go back to my own room."

"No, you can stay. I'll ignore you if you want. I just wanted to ask...if you wanted help with that." Annie smiles. "I've been told I'm good with my hands."

"And I'm allowed?"

"You're family. Besides, Finnick and I have an open relationship, and I think the three of us had a good time when he was here. We can try it without him...but only if you want."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to want."

Annie was prepared for this.

"Well, tell me about your experiences. You've had sex with women before, right? Only when you were paid, or on your own?"

"No, any time I was asked," Cashmere says brightly, and Annie's heart sinks. Of course.

She perseveres. "Did you dread it? Did you look forward to it?"

Cashmere thinks. "Neither, I guess. It depends on who I was with, but it felt nice while it lasted. I never really thought about it."

"And you looked forward to sex with men? It's okay," Annie adds, smiling, "so do I."

Cashmere looks cautiously at Annie, then decides she can trust her. "Before President Snow, yes. After...I dreaded it too. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, and I wasn't supposed to enjoy it, and I needed to make the sex good enough that someone would stay with me. I fantasized more about being rescued than about sex."

"And now you don't need to be rescued?"

"Not as long as I can stay here."

"You can stay forever. Sex or no sex."

"Then I might like to try it," Cashmere says, with a small smile. "It's always nice with you and Finnick."

It doesn't surprise Annie how good her first time with a woman is. She knows her way around a woman's body, of course, and it's not even like she and Cashmere haven't had sex in the same bed before.

What surprises her is how urgently she finds herself wanting it to be her turn. She'd started out just planning to do it as a favor for Cashmere, who was in the mood. But now Annie's filled with an insistent warmth that she knows will turn into a roaring fire with the slightest encouragement.

"You don't have to," she tries to tell Cashmere. But she can't hide how aroused she is, and she can't really resist it when Cashmere starts reciprocating. All she can do is try to make sure it's good for Cashmere too.

"Do you like being called princess? Sweetheart?"

"Mmm." Cashmere makes a happy sound. "I like them all, but I like 'honeybee' the best."

"Because we made it up just for you?"

"Because it doesn't just say what, it says why. It helps me remember why I'm family and why you want me around. And because I get to be your honeybee too."

"Well, I am the one the stinger's protecting. And I get smothered in sweetness. I would say you're my honeybee most of all."

Cashmere giggles, making Annie's heart flop in happiness.

It flops again, not long after, and Annie presses her hands to her mouth, trying not to wake the whole compound.

Cashmere turns over and is asleep almost instantly after that, but Annie's awake for a long time. She knows she should be worrying about Cashmere's motives, knows this is like sex with Finnick but _more so_ , but what she can't stop obsessing about is her own.

Why is she sitting up hugging her pillow gleefully? Why was she so relaxed the whole time?

Annie stops short. She didn't panic. Not only didn't she panic, she didn't have to go slow because she had to worry about panicking, and watch her every move. She only ever hit Finnick once or twice during sex. But ever after, she was so afraid she would that she couldn't relax.

That got in the way of being in the mood more than anything.

 _Maybe it's just that I never hit Cashmere, so my stupid brain doesn't freeze up worrying about it,_ Annie reasons. She hopes it doesn't start now that she's given it a reason to worry.

It seems pretty busy with other obsessions, though. Like how soon they can do this again. And what Cashmere likes.

The obsession doesn't get any easier by daylight, either. Not with Cashmere doing her usual exercises in the hall outside their room, and Annie skipping an engineering session so she can sit in their doorway mending clothes and pretending not to watch.

Then she has to wonder why she never did this with Finnick. Never went through the butterflies phase, never had to do her hair a hundred different ways before going somewhere with him. At the time she thought it was just because she had more important things to worry about, like whether she could go anywhere without having a meltdown.

Then they just got more and more comfortable with each other, until they started thinking about moving in together, and it became clear it was the real thing. So she told herself that that's why she never had this incredible awareness of Finnick's body.

Now she feels like a teenager again.

 _Get a grip, Cresta. You didn't know you could crush on women, but you can. No big deal._

Annie bends industriously over her sewing, while out of the corner of her eye, Cashmere lifts weights, runs in place, and does squats, lunges, and things Annie doesn't even know what they're called.

 _There are crushes and then there are marriages. Marriages last longer. Yes, this feels meant to be, but so did every single boy you dreamed about when you were a teenager, and you don't even remember all their names._

 _All you have to do is make sure you're not taking advantage of her, and you and Cashmere can have as much fun as you want._

Not that the first part's as easy as it sounds. But Annie's had a lot of practice with Finnick. She knows what to watch for, and she knows the dangers of holding back too much. Just because Cashmere's been taken advantage of, doesn't mean she doesn't want love, sex, or affection. She's vulnerable exactly because she does want those things.

So Annie uses words like "family" and "belong" with Cashmere as often as she can, and they make Cashmere happier than anything. Almost as happy as they make Annie.

* * *

"I don't have anything for you to build today," Joule tells Annie when she comes into the lab and sits down at the worktable.

"Is everything all right?" Annie asks. This is a first.

Joule's smiling. "Better than all right. We got a heap of information about enemy code. And no one here who knows cryptography, so I've been here all day trying to give myself a crash course in it." She gestures at a stack of books in front of her.

"I don't even know what that means." Annie smiles back at her teacher. "Do you need someone to explain it to while you learn?"

"That's absolutely what I need. Settle in."

Annie looks at the notepad Joule sets in front of her, and has just enough time to see numbers and incomprehensible symbols that are utterly unlike the symbols she's been learning to recognize, before Joule flips to a blank page.

"Suppose I wanted to send a message about you, but didn't want to use your name, because if anyone intercepted the message, they'd know I was talking about you."

Annie takes a deep breath and grips Cashmere's hand, because this hypothetical scenario is altogether too close to reality. _Focus._

"I could decide to represent A with the number 1, N with the number 14, I with the number 9, and E with the letter 5. If you and I had agreed on this code in advance, I could send you this sequence-" Joule writes _1 14 14 9 5_ on the pad. "-And knowing how to decipher it, you'd be able to read your name. But that would be a really obvious code that the enemy would break very quickly. So the goal is to come up with something that you, my ally, can read, but my enemy cannot."

After that, the lecture goes over Annie's head. She does her best to ask questions, but the answers are usually either "I don't know," or Joule grabbing a book and poring over it while muttering unintelligibly.

This must be how Annie makes Cashmere feel all the time. But she remembers how helpful it is that Cashmere lets her ramble about things she only half understands, so she does her best to nod, smile, and look interested. At least she's getting exposed to a lot of unfamiliar words, so that when she gets a proper explanation, they won't be completely new to her.

Finally, Joule runs out of steam. "And that's all I know. Tomorrow I hope to know more. What'd you think?"

"That you give a lot more organized lectures when you know what you're talking about?" Annie answers.

Joule looks surprised, then laughs. "Yes, I suppose I do. I'll tell you this, though. Not knowing what I'm talking about is the best part of the war."

"What do you mean?" Annie asks curiously.

"They taught us how to do things in school and then expected us to do them by rote. Design was part of my job, so I got to use my brain more than most people, but I was still very constrained. They don't want too much leakage of knowledge, so everyone works on their piece, and you have to have a very high security clearance to be able to bring the pieces together. I could never stand it."

Joule looks up, and there's hunger in her eyes. "I like _learning_."

Her voice comes out hoarse. She pushes away the books and the notepad and pours herself a glass of water, then gulps it down thirstily. With a calmer demeanor, she asks Annie, "What was it like for you?"

Annie leans back in her chair and thinks about that one. "I think my biggest frustration wasn't not being able to learn. It was that I could tell I could pick up new skills quickly, but I didn't have enough strength or stamina, because I was always hungry. If I hadn't been so hungry, I could have produced more. And if I could have produced more, I could have made more money."

"That's rough," Joule sympathizes.

"I guess that's what the academy was for," Annie muses. "But it was so far away, and I didn't want to even think about the Hunger Games. I later found out they taught survival skills if you didn't want weapons training, but by then it was too late. I only ever saw our tributes on televisions with spears and knives, and I knew that wasn't me."

"How did that work out with you and Finnick?"

"Well, I told you the story of how I thought he was going to kill me!" Annie laughs. "You have no idea how long it took for us to warm up to each other." She puts her hand on Cashmere's shoulder. "Took me no time at all with Cashmere."

Warm as they are, though, they're still getting to know each other. Annie tries her best to ask questions in a way that Cashmere can answer without feeling like she's stupid, but sometimes Cashmere still surprises her. And some questions are going to be hard no matter what.

"I was wondering...It's been almost two years since you found out about the rebellion. I was wondering what you thought. Now that you've had time to hear both sides and think about it."

Cashmere looks at her quickly. "I'm not going to let them take you, Annie! Finnick saved my life, and you said we're family."

"I know," Annie reassures her. "That's not where I was going with that. And you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable talking about it. I just want to understand what you think. Since we're family. This isn't an interrogation."

"Okay." Cashmere looks down. "They killed my parents on television," she says numbly. "Because I defected and did propaganda for Plutarch."

"Oh my god." Annie presses her hands to her chest to make sure her heart's still beating. Pearleye made her do propaganda! Annie still doesn't know who's alive and who might have died because of her one and only voluntary appearance on television. But this is about Cashmere. "How—how did you find out?"

"I wasn't supposed to know. Finnick wasn't supposed to either. But he used to have me sit out of earshot while he talked privately with someone in Thirteen, and sometimes I overheard other people talking. The Capitol televised it, and they saw it in Thirteen. But all the broadcasts were censored there."

"Does Finnick know?"

Cashmere shakes her head. "I can never be sure what he does and doesn't know, but he hasn't brought it up. I don't think he does. He'll still trust me, right?"

"Of course he will!" Annie puts a hand on her shoulder and rubs it encouragingly. "I trust you. We just know that you were kind of thrown into the middle of a rebellion without being asked, and we care what you think."

"There isn't anything I wouldn't do anything to protect you, Annie."

"I know that. I just wish you didn't have to. I hope you don't have to. I wish I weren't such a liability."

"But you're family," Cashmere insists. "And you're learning. We'll keep training."

* * *

The next time Finnick arrives in District Three, he delays as long as he can, seeing to the defenses and putting in his time on the front lines, then makes for the shelter where Annie's hidden. Nearing her room, he hears an urgent voice he didn't expect—Rudder's. His heart immediately starts to beat faster, and his brain fills in images of the crisis ongoing.

Finnick sprints the last few feet to the sound of Cashmere saying, "No, lift your elbow higher."

Turning the corner, Finnick stops short and stares at the sight of Rudder, Cashmere, and _Annie_ engaged in combat—mock combat?—in the open space outside the private rooms. Rudder has Annie in a hold, Annie's trying to break free, and Cashmere's offering guidance.

Annie's the first to notice his approach. She goes slack, and when Rudder looks up to see what she's looking at, he releases her.

Finnick's still trying to convince himself that this isn't an emergency, just another false alarm.

"I'm practicing not getting abducted," Annie explains, once she has her breath and her composure back.

Rudder lifts a shoulder. "Can't hurt. She's learned something, at least."

"Glad to hear it," Finnick says, still dazed. This is the last thing he expected. "Well, carry on."

He can't take Cashmere's place because Annie's still a beginner, and he can't take Rudder's because every atom in his body revolts at the thought of laying hands on Annie in violence, even with her permission.

So with nothing to contribute, Finnick simply leans against the wall and cheers Annie on. "Come on, kill him, knock him out!"

She does neither of these things, but she manages to land enough blows, squirm away, and once get her arms and legs wrapped around a door, that at the end of the session Rudder says with a nod, "Progress." Then he's gone.

Back in her room, Annie elaborates, "I don't have to win the fight, I just have to drag it out long enough for Cashmere to do her thing. Did you know, she can beat him with a sword!"

"Only if we're both using swords," Cashmere says modestly. "The important thing is that he's been helping me practice with firearms. Sometimes when Annie's doing her engineering thing-"

Annie grins.

"I go above ground and practice. Far enough away that the noise won't give away the shelter."

"But the point is that she can beat him with a sword," Annie repeats proudly. Then she demands, outraged, "Speaking of which, how come didn't she get a higher score?!"

Finnick laughs. "You mean, why did she get the same score as Johanna and lower than Enobaria, despite being a better athlete than both? Killer instinct counts for a lot. Johanna and Enobaria are the ones you don't want to meet in a dark alley."

Finnick remembers uneasily how effortless it was to drag Johanna, despite all her wrestling training, away from Katniss, and start dunking her in the water. The memory makes him wonder how much of a chance Annie really has. _Johanna didn't want to kill me, though, not really_ , Finnick reminds himself. _And Annie has Cashmere._

"Oh, very well." Annie hugs Cashmere. "I guess being a sweetheart doesn't give you the edge in the arena."

"There are two sweethearts in this room," Finnick says affectionately.

Annie studies him thoughtfully. "Two and a half," she decides.

Finnick whoops with laughter. "Half sweetheart, half egomaniac?"

"You got it."

"Well, you seem to be sweetheart, engineer, and self-defense expert. I can't keep up, Annie!" Finnick grins appreciatively at her, hiding the sting of time passing again.

"I'm a lot braver with Cashmere around. And Rudder, well, I guess I'm getting used to him. Did you know he and Beetee are an item?"

Finnick is surprised. "I didn't, but it makes sense. They'd complement each other, I guess. And Rudder was close to Octavius, as a mentor, so he's not going to make any stupid gaffes about the wheelchair."

"Octavius?" Annie shakes herself. "Why do I keep being surprised that Rudder's human?"

Cashmere surprises them by speaking up. "I thought you didn't have the luxury of gossiping about other people's lives," she reminds Annie, smiling gently.

Annie looks briefly guilty, then says with great dignity, "It's not gossip. Beetee told me. He's a good friend and I'm happy for him."

"Rudder's a good friend and I'm happy for him," Finnick adds.

He and Annie exchange a knowing look of amusement. Beetee and Finnick get on each other's nerves, and Annie's only slowly getting over being intimidated by Rudder.

Finnick continues, "Besides, it's easier these days to let yourself care about people, without Snow breathing threats down your neck. Snow killed all of Rudder's family, you know."

"I didn't know," Annie says, "but I did notice that victors tended to be short on family that wasn't other victors. So I guess in hindsight I'm not surprised about Octavius."

"Octavius was supposed to be nonfunctional," Finnick observes, "but I got some useful advice out of him when I was in training."

" _I'm_ supposed to be nonfunctional!"

Finnick smiles. "I know. Octavius is apparently one of the reasons Rudder resented Mags so much, that she didn't do more for him. I hadn't realized quite how deep the resentment ran. Rudder went to the Capitol when she had her stroke, after all."

"Yeah, and he showed up at my house a year later and rescued me. How strange," Annie needles Finnick.

Finnick raises his eyebrows. "Really? You, sure, but he went all the way to the Capitol to visit someone he didn't like, for me?"

"He probably wanted to see if you needed any help."

"I did, from you. I wasn't expecting anything from him. I didn't realize he disliked her so much. I thought they disagreed on strategy, but...it's hard to imagine anyone not liking Mags."

"I don't know how he felt about her, but I think he has stronger protective feelings toward you than he lets on."

"I guess. He was kind of like a tough love uncle. I know he came to see me into the arena when he didn't usually, and Mags said he went to pieces with nerves over me. By the time I came out, though, I didn't see the slightest sign."

"I don't know what he thinks of me," Cashmere says. "He just seems pleased that I'm so dedicated to Annie, and he's willing to help me out."

"He told me you were 'competent', which is high praise from him."

Cashmere smiles. "That's nice. I like sparring with him. He's a good teacher. And I know where I stand with him, and that I'm not supposed to be having sex with him, and that makes it less complicated."

Annie jumps, while Finnick narrows his eyes and asks, "Was Gale hitting on you? Or any of the other guys you trained in Thirteen?"

"Who's Gale?" Annie demands.

"Eighteen-year-old boy with a broken heart, on the rebound," Finnick answers, aching. "Dead now," he adds.

Cashmere shrugs. "Not exactly, but I think it was only out of respect for you. I could tell he wanted something, and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Especially then, when the rules were all new and confusing. Rudder's very easy. Good sparring, no expectations, and no small talk."

"I didn't know Rudder was interested in men until Beetee told me," Annie comments.

"You barely knew him," Finnick says. "That's not news to me. What I do wonder is whether _you're_ interested in men."

Annie's mouth falls open and her mouth goes wide while she flounders. "Yes! Of course!"

Finnick smiles wryly. "It's okay if you're not."

She's more at a loss than he was when she proposed a threesome. "How is that okay? I'm married to you!"

Unconcerned, Finnick lifts a shoulder. "If it were one of those marriages where we're only allowed to sleep with each other, it would be more of a problem. But forgive me if I say sex wasn't the reason I married you."

"No, of course not, and we're still married for all those reasons, but having a wife who's interested in you and also in other women would be one thing. Having a wife who wasn't interested in you at all is completely different!"

"Look." Finnick gestures around the room. "We're a family, right? No one's going anywhere. As long as I can come back and know there's a place for me, then everything is working out."

"It's like a three-way marriage." Annie is thoughtful. "Cashmere? I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was getting more interested. I was going to. We can stop if you want."

Now it's Cashmere's turn to look confused. "Didn't tell me? What was there to tell? You've been pretty obvious. I just thought you didn't mind if I'm not as excited, as long as we both get what we need."

Finnick nods. "I've had sex for friendship's sake. It's fine. If you're having better sex with Cashmere than with me, I can't very well complain. So am I. And the threesomes are fantastic. What's not to like?"

Annie takes a deep breath. This conversation is getting heavy. "Look. I'll think about it. But I've been assuming that I just need to relax more with you, not that I wasn't interested in you, or in men in general."

"You might be right. Take all the time you need to figure it out," Finnick urges gently. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not doing without."

"Me too," Cashmere adds. "I like making you happy, Annie. As long as you're not disappointed that I'm not more excited. I do really enjoy it when we're in bed. I think it's better than friendship sex. "

"Disappointed? I feel like my life is too good to be true." Annie looks at Finnick, and he knows they're both thinking back on years of shared history. "And I've never felt that before."


	9. Chapter 9

The moment Annie comes out of her room for a late breakfast, she knows something is wrong. The dining room is completely empty. She can hear unhappy sounds from the work areas, and she follows those sounds.

Some people are pacing. Some are gathered in small groups, talking in low, tense voices in small groups. Others are bent over their workstations, working with fear instead of joy.

Beetee's nowhere to be found, so she goes and stands silently next to Joule, who's bent over her table. Not wanting to interrupt her concentration at a critical moment, she waits until the other woman is ready to speak.

Joule just shakes her head helplessly. "They've been fighting since dawn. We got a message from Four that the enemy know we're here. Rudder's trying to buy us as much time as we can to go into lockdown, but he doesn't know how long he can hold them."

"And the lockdown system isn't ready?" Annie says. The pit of her stomach churns sickeningly. They've been working on it, but if it were ready, she'd have heard by now.

"We're just trying to cobble something together that will hold until the military situation improves, hopefully enough that we can evacuate."

"But with the materials we have, and the time we don't have, and the constraints of not being able to go outside..." Silica sounds sick.

Annie goes and sits in a corner after that. She'll rush to assemble anything they give her, but she's not going to be much use coming up with new ideas. Her throat is so thick she can't even think about asking the questions that might stimulate someone to a flash of insight. All her mind can do is whirl over the images of invading troops, Cashmere dying, Beetee dying, Joule dying, everyone dying. Blood, screaming, torture, nerve gas. Finnick screaming her name.

An eternity passes before Beetee emerges. He had locked himself into his room, concentrating with all his might. He's shaking his head.

"Nothing?!" Silica shouts.

"Not from in here. We don't have the power for the doors, much less the force fields. Even if we could get them ready in time, and I think we could, they're too power-intensive. We'd have to start up more generators in the plant, and it's over a kilometer away. We can't get there."

Everyone gathers around the schematic he's drawn. First silence, then "hmming," then the sound of cautious optimism.

"It might work," Joule mutters. "We're almost earthquake-proof, and we'd be safe against a bomb set off above ground, and you're right, with this setup we might be able to make the force fields airtight. If they shut down our power and disrupt the force field, at least we'd have sealed the doors."

"It doesn't matter, though," Beetee says gloomily. "We don't have the power to do any of that. And our front yard's a war zone."

"If we turn off everything else-" Silica suggests.

"You think I didn't crunch the numbers? An explosion-proof defense system that can be controlled from the inside but not the outside is no trivial undertaking. It's not a few fluorescent light-bulbs."

"I thought we had the hardware solved and the problem was software-" Joule protests.

"The software is good enough. I don't care if it has bugs. We just need to buy a couple of days. If we get locked in, we have the best and brightest minds in here. We'll find a way out. Hardware is our problem now. We have the heavy parts of the doors, but we don't have the power to open and close them on demand, or to know what's going on outside and when it's safe to open again. Nor do we have the power for the force field."

"Can't Rudder spare someone?" someone asks. "If protecting us is the reason he's fighting-"

"I don't think he has that much control over the situation out there!" Beetee explodes. "And who's going to make sure the generators are working? If one of us goes out there, we probably won't make it back. We won't be able to wait on them before we activate lockdown. And I wouldn't trust one of his troops with instructions. I wrote them up—where in the plant to go, how to start up the generators—but reading over them, I don't think it can be done by someone with no idea what they're doing."

On and on it goes, with no one able to come up with a solution. Silica is still trying to convince himself that they can redirect enough power from within. Joule pokes her head outside and reports back that the fighting can be heard clearly from the entrance.

On and on, Annie's brain goes in circles. She stays where she is, everyone dies. She goes outside and she's captured. She's captured and they torture her. They torture her, Finnick does something reckless and brave, and they lose the war. Mags dies for nothing. She stays where she is and gets captured, and they don't have to torture her because there's no torture worse than what she's inflicting on herself, remembering everyone dying. She takes her pill so that she dies before they can get her. She dies never knowing if Cashmere makes it.

Finally, she lifts her head. Cashmere is so quiet, sitting on the floor beside her, that everyone's forgotten she's there. But they do have one warrior who isn't in the field.

Cashmere meets Annie's eyes and slowly nods. Cashmere could run a kilometer easy. But she couldn't set anything up.

Annie could probably start up what they need, depending on the instructions, but she doesn't know if she could run the kilometer fast enough.

Cashmere can't promise to keep her alive long enough to reach the plant, but neither can she promise to keep her alive down here if the compound is invaded. Cashmere will cover her if she decides to go.

She can't go.

She has to go.

Cashmere hooks her elbow in Annie's as they walk slowly, Annie dragging her feet every step of the way, over to Beetee's set of instructions. Looking over his shoulder, she studies them.

She doesn't have to say anything. Cashmere's presence is enough.

"But there's a price on your head," Beetee protests in awe.

Annie doesn't say anything. She just moves her finger over the part she'd have to do.

Slowly, helplessly, Beetee starts to explain the steps. "I'd trust you with it in a heartbeat," he admits. "We tried to automate the process as much as possible so it can be run from a console, and you'll understand what you're seeing."

When she's sure she's got the steps down and feels confident about each one, Annie looks up at Cashmere's eyes one last time. She's scared to death, but Cashmere holds her gaze so steadyingly that as long as Annie doesn't think about what she's doing or who she is or why she of all people can't do this, she can sort of hypnotize herself into treating it as a purely technical problem.

Finally, Beetee reaches up from his wheelchair to hug her. "We'll hold the doors open for you to come back as long as we can, but if they see you go, it may not be long enough. Annie—I don't want to have to explain this to Finnick."

Annie smiles hollowly at that. "Tell Rudder he has to explain how he couldn't hold them off," she suggests. She hugs Beetee back, hard. Then Joule.

Cashmere does some initial reconnaissance, climbing out the concealed entrance and looking around for the best escape route before she and Annie make a dash for it. She has two firearms to keep the enemy at bay, and her sword if it comes to hand-to-hand combat. She's still more comfortable with her sword than anything else.

Annie takes her slingshot for what she hopes is only psychological support, and she wears her fur coat. She doesn't think she'll overheat in the autumn air; in fact, the heavy fog will work to their advantage in more than one way. It's probably why the outnumbered Four troops have held out as long as they can, and why the enemy doesn't know yet exactly where the entrance is.

Annie and Cashmere duck as low as they can, trying to go unnoticed for the first part of the run, so they can help conceal the location of the compound a little longer. Then they go all out, needing speed above all else.

They're heading toward the edge of the town. The tech district was built just slightly inland, to reduce the corrosive effects of the salt water, and the new underground compounds are spread out as close to the coast as they can be built. So she doesn't have to run terribly far, though every step is an eternity of expecting to be taken down by a shot.

The plant isn't guarded, by either side. In fact, everyone seems to be in the field, fighting desperately for control of the compound entrance. Annie runs inside the plant and gets to work quickly. Cashmere stands guard at the door.

The hardest thing she ever does is keep her concentration at the sound of fighting just a few meters away. Someone must have seen her and Cashmere, and now they're facing enemy troops. Cashmere's had time to choose a defensive spot, though, partially shielded by the door and wall.

Annie jumps at the first shot that's fired, then realizes she almost entered the wrong command. She can't afford to be jumpy. She wants to rush, to get her and Cashmere out of there as fast as she can, but she can't afford that either. She keeps her shaking hands steady, pretends Joule is watching over her shoulder, and concentrates on getting it right the first time.

As soon as it's done, she doesn't even check her work, just runs straight toward Cashmere. As she does, her eyes see something that her brain can't process yet. Cashmere motions her to wait, and Annie ducks down. She's trying to stay out of the line of sight through the partially open door, but as she waits, the sight of small round holes in the wall by the door penetrates. Nothing about this building is protecting her. There's only Cashmere, trying to take down the enemy soldiers as fast as they come.

In a lull in the action, Cashmere gestures to Annie to come, then grabs her by the arm, and they run down the streets of the town. Annie follows blindly, running through a never-ending stream in her head of images of land mines, bombs, bullets. Cashmere falling, Finnick screaming.

There's no one around when Cashmere shoves her through a gap in a dilapidated wooden porch. "Hide," she gasps. "If you're taken, delay as long as you can. I'm going for help."

Annie still has her pill, fastened to her skin on her shoulder. She's practiced, and even if her hands are bound behind her, she can still reach the packet with her teeth. She was always counting on being able to take it before capture, though. If they strip her or knock her unconscious, they might find the pill.

Crouched down low, trying to be invisible, Annie unwinds her slingshot from around her wrist, and she feels around for small stones.

* * *

Cashmere runs, dodges, draws pursuit away from Annie. She's grateful she's put so much time into improving her sprinting, resentful that it's still her weak point.

Running, she sees the faces of the enemies she felled. Four of them. One she recognized from the academy. _Defector. Traitor._ She's killing her former students, her own people.

But no. Annie is her people now.

It's too hard, from the edge of the town, to make out what's happening in the battle through the fog and gunsmoke. She needs to run in, get troops to get Annie out, but if she ends up in the wrong army and she's killed or taken, Annie's people won't know where to find her.

Rudder's tall, he should be easy to spot. Scanning, scanning...not seeing anyone she knows. She's too far, but she doesn't dare get closer until she has some idea who's on which side.

Suddenly there's a shout. The fighting falters. She sees figures fleeing the field, and a large body of troops moving toward the compound.

Cashmere sorts out what must have happened. Rudder got word the compound went into lockdown. He's given the order to retreat. The fleeing soldiers are on her side. The body of troops advancing in good order is the enemy, and it's moving in the opposite direction from her.

Cashmere runs down the first fleeing soldiers she sees. Sword sheathed, firearms strapped to her, hands raised in the air.

"I'm on your side, I'm on your side!" she yell as she approaches. But her face is recognizable before her gasped-out words are audible, and before she can explain, she's down on the ground with a boot on her chest.

She doesn't put up a fight, because it's her only chance. If she can only get through to them before it's too late. But she's winded and dizzy from slamming into the ground. All she can do is try to get air into her lungs to breathe, before she can even think about talking.

"Keep her alive," the one who seems to be in charge snaps. "Pearleye's been running out of valuable prisoners to trade. This one's a victor."

"Defected!" she finally gets out. "Finnick."

Eyes narrow. "What's that about Finnick?"

"She cleans up pretty," someone jokes.

"Come on, we're exposed here." Two of them haul her to her feet and start dragging her into the town. She puts up no resistance, just trying to explain.

"I defected! In the arena, last year. Finnick and I got out of the arena together. You must have been watching!"

"Ha!"

"We were fighting for control of Four. You think we had time to watch television?"

"I did! We brought food to Three, on the train. There's no time to waste, we need to rescue Annie!"

"Annie? Cresta? I almost believed your story until now, but that's crazier than she is."

 _Oh my god, this is the worst part of no one knowing where Annie is._

"Take me to Rudder, he knows!"

Relentlessly, they continue dragging her. The town is empty, unfought-over because abandoned. Cashmere is trying to play along, but time is critical, and she's almost crying with the frustration of not being believed.

"If she gets captured, it'll be on _your_ head, and _you_ can explain to Finnick!"

"Well, you're going to go to Rudder anyway, as soon as we can figure out where he is. If he's still alive. Come on, sit down. Who's got rope?"

"Listen, you can tie me up, you can do whatever you want with me, but you need to go down that street, turn left-"

"It's a trap," a woman says casually. "Al, you wounded?"

"Just my elbow. Hurts like a bitch, but it'll do." The man's eyes are watering, but he's trying to keep useful to his companions.

"If it's a trap, take me with you, hold a knife to my throat, use me as a hostage, but you need to get Annie out of there!"

"Melly, if this is a trap, it's the weirdest trap I've ever heard of."

"No, it's not," Melly contradicts. "They pulled it on Finnick in the arena."

"So you've heard about that!" Cashmere screams.

"Well, everyone's heard about that. 'S why Annie's in hiding."

"Yes, she's in hiding! She's in hiding here because everyone thinks she's in Four!"

They drag her into an abandoned building. It's dark inside, but Melly immediately starts poking around. They improvise something to bind Cashmere with, and appoint Jules as guard.

"Gag her, she's making too much noise."

With an effort, Cashmere lowers her voice to a whisper. "Find Rudder. He knows."

"Al, can you move? I don't trust her with less than two able-bodied guards. You need to find medical attention, and look for Rudder. He needs to know we have a victor from One as prisoner. Jules and I'll stay."

He groans, but swallows bravely. "I can do it."

No mention of Annie, but if he can find Rudder in time, it won't matter. He'll know something is wrong if Cashmere is outside the compound.

It's an agonizing wait before Al comes hurtling back. "Rudder backed her story!" One-handed, he starts trying to unbind Cashmere. "He says do whatever she says!"

Quickly, they exchange information. Cashmere tells them where she left Annie. Al tells them where Rudder has set up camp and is gathering the scattered remnants of his beaten army. "He doesn't want too many of us assembling at once. This is still guerrilla warfare. But he wants the wounded tended, he wants reconnaissance, and he wants Annie Cresta."

"I still can't believe she's here." He gives Cashmere back her weapons.

Then there's no more time for talking, because they're on the run again.

They can hear pounding feet and shouting, running through the streets. Annie's not where Cashmere left her. The porch is damaged, and there are signs of a struggle.

With a quick look, Melly defers to Cashmere for the next step.

She heads for the nearest sounds of other people running. As soon as they spot the enemy, the soldiers from Four fall without a word into an efficient formation. They spread out, cover each other, and advance by leapfrogging. Cashmere has no training in these sorts of maneuvers, but she picks up what she can on the spot by watching and joins in.

"Don't fire more than you have to," she calls. "Don't hit Annie."

In the ensuing scuffle, Al falls, to all appearances dead. Still no signs of Annie.

They're running, listening for any sound, when suddenly Cashmere hears a voice screaming her name. Annie's voice.

"Annie!" Cashmere screams. "Run!"

When they come into sight, Annie's clinging to an iron fence post with all her strength, while a cursing Peacekeeper tries to pry her off.

"Take out the backup," Melly orders.

Cashmere doesn't even have any protection on, and she'd die for Annie but she'd rather rescue her, and the last thing she wants is her and Annie dying in the dust here.

Then she starts sprinting, because she's thought of a way she can help. She ducks out of sight of the impending firefight, where she can just keep an eye on the situation. The moment there's an opening, she darts in, clubs the right arm of the nearest Peacekeeper, and grabs Annie.

Only the fact that the Peacekeepers also need Annie alive saves her. Cashmere takes her as far away as she can, as fast as she can.

Now with Annie out of the way, the firefight starts in earnest. Cashmere still doesn't know where Rudder is, but Annie's free, and they've got allies now. If they're still alive.

The sounds of shooting fall silent. Cashmere stands with her gun at the ready, prepared to ambush the victor before they can take Annie again.

"Cashmere! It's me!"

Jules, wisely announcing himself before he comes into view. Melly's with him.

"Take us to Rudder."

On the way, Jules looks at Annie. "I still can't believe you're in Three."

But Annie doesn't react. She doesn't say a word until they're in the basement where Rudder's set up a temporary headquarters. Then she starts gasping and shaking. Not crying, but hyperventilating.

"You're okay, Annie, you did great." Cashmere rubs her back encouragingly and murmurs into her ear. "You did everything I taught you."

"I need a situation report right now," Rudder raps out.

"And you'll get one in a minute," Cashmere snaps back. "Annie, are you hurt? Do you need anything?"

Annie can't answer, but after a minute, she shakes her head.

That frees Cashmere to respond to a glaring Rudder. In a few words, she summarizes the lockdown emergency, the improvised solution, and Annie's volunteering to save the day. "I left her in hiding because I didn't know where to take her, I didn't know who I was going to run into first, them or us, and I could run faster without her. We lost time when I couldn't convince your troops that I was on your side."

"I'm not going to reprimand them for that," Rudder announces, much to their audible relief. "They reacted the best they could with the information they had. When is she going to calm down?"

"She'll do what she has to do if it's an emergency right now," Cashmere answers, "but the longer she has to put off getting this out of her system, the more she'll pay for it later."

"I'm okay," Annie says through her sobs, lifting her face from Cashmere's shoulder and hiccuping. "I'm okay."

She sounds anything but, but Rudder has no time to waste. "I have nowhere safe for you. They know you're in Three now, and they'll look for you here. We've got more control over Four, but nothing like what I would consider safe. There is no lockdown there, and a lot more bombing. And they'll look for you to be crossing the border, by land or by sea.

"A northbound train came through this morning. I can signal ahead for them to return. If Finnick isn't in Seven, Johanna will help you. I've met few go-getters who are her equal."

Annie nods her agreement. The whole west coast is off limits to her now, and that's an overwhelmingly terrifying feeling. "I'm sorry about Al," she says, her eyes full of sympathy. "And Evan. And Donn."

"I told you not to leave that bunker," Rudder says, but without wasting anger on something that's past. "This is what happens when you don't follow orders."

"She saved lives!" Cashmere rushes to her defense. "If those engineers aren't important, why are they in a top-security bunker?"

Annie has a different argument. "I'm a civilian," she reminds Rudder. "You can't give me orders. Unless you declared martial law, and I thought you were avoiding that."

"Cashmere's-"

"Privately hired bodyguard," Annie returns with a straight face. It's almost funny, after everything she's done to convince Cashmere she's not just the bodyguard.

Rudder knows when he's beat. "I know it had to be done, I just wish it hadn't been you. Tell Finnick I said you were too brave."

"And tech-savvy!" Cashmere injects.

Rudder almost smiles.

* * *

Annie and Cashmere huddle in the back of the train. The smell of fish is so powerful that Annie's overcome by homesickness almost as much as nausea.

"I did do what you taught me," Annie whispers. "I fought, I got away, and I hid. I always hid outside, so I wouldn't get trapped somewhere I couldn't run from, and so we could find each other."

"That's really good thinking, in an emergency," Cashmere praises. Especially for someone whose instinct is to hide as deeply as possible. Remaining so exposed must have gone sharply against her instincts. "You spent less time as a prisoner than I did," she jokes.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry-!"

"No, no," Cashmere hastens to assure her. "Your people. I surrendered to them and they didn't recognize me. But I didn't put up a fight, so they didn't hurt me. And they went directly to Rudder, who straightened it out."

"They didn't recognize you?"

"They did," Cashmere says slowly, "and so they thought I was with District One."

"Oh. Is One...putting troops in the field?"

"Yes," Cashmere says slowly. "I...encountered them."

Annie hugs her. "I'm sorry."

"No, I always knew this might happen. If I hadn't defected, I'd be dead."

"If you hadn't defected, I'd be dead."

"Hopefully not." Cashmere doesn't like to even think of it. "They'd find some way to keep you safe. Do you think Finnick's in Seven?"

"I hope so. I don't like Johanna," Annie mutters.

"You met her?"

"No, but you saw her with Wiress, right? That could have been me having a meltdown. But she's protective of Finnick, so I have to be grateful to her for that."

"I won't let her touch you," Cashmere promises.

Annie smiles slightly. "I can just imagine you and Johanna getting into a fistfight and Finnick having to drag you apart."

"I don't have any plans to start fights, but I will be the one to end it if she thinks she can lay a hand on you."

"You're such a honeybee."

* * *

Finnick just about has a heart attack when he turns around and sees Cashmere. _No,_ he tells himself, _you're imagining it, you're seeing her everywhere because you miss her._

But the moment she starts speaking, he knows it's her.

"Where's—what are you doing here?" He can't even say Annie's name with all these people around, can't give her away again.

In his head, Annie's voice comes screaming out of a flock of birds.

Cashmere looks around at the group of soldiers laying barbed wire. "Can I tell you here?"

Finnick barely excuses himself, grabs onto Cashmere's arm like this'll all be a dream if he doesn't, and a minute later they're standing a short distance off, with heads bent close, whispering urgently.

"She's alive. She's here, and we don't know where to go from here."

"She's—where? Where is she?" He can get the story later, he just needs to know where.

Cashmere glances up at the mountains looming over them. "Up there, in a cave. She's alone, with food and fire and shelter, but we don't know Seven at all."

"Show me."

Finnick follows Cashmere at a dead run. He curses the altitude that has him breathing too hard to go faster, and ignores the voice that says it's not just the altitude. It's not Mags' voice, luckily, or it would be harder to ignore.

They have to slow down when they start to ascend, until it's all they can do to walk without losing their footing. Then Cashmere drops suddenly to her knees in front of a cave and starts crawling in. Finnick follows.

"Finnick?" Annie's voice wavers from deep in the cave. "Are we safe here?"

"Yes, yes." They feel their way toward each other in the dim light. "There's no one for at least a mile, and we're far from where the action is."

She buries her face in his chest, shaking. Finnick holds perfectly still until she starts clutching him tighter. That's his permission to cling to her, rub her back, and rock back and forth, trying to calm this frantic urge to run and find a problem to solve for her. He knows she just needs somewhere to fall apart now that she's out of danger.

"There, you made it, you're here, I'm here, you're safe. You can talk to me when you're ready."

Annie pries one hand off of Finnick long enough to gesture at Cashmere. She's been sitting quietly by the entrance, but Annie and Finnick know enough now to know that shutting down is her way of coping with distress she can't solve. It doesn't mean she's as calm as she seems.

"You want her to tell me?"

Cashmere comes immediately over to them. "Annie was so brave. You have no idea." She recounts the story of the improvised lockdown, Annie activating the generators under fire, Cashmere guarding her, and the flight to the defeated remnants of Rudder's army. Then the journey to Seven, the battle at the border, the decision to leave the train and swing way west, cross the border far from civilization, and come down on it from the north.

"I killed a rabbit," Annie says, laughing through her tears. "Not a chalk rabbit."

"She noticed a bear! We managed to avoid it and it didn't hurt us, but she was the one who noticed it."

"Annie notices things," Finnick says proudly, wiping his own tears. "I'm not surprised."

"And I didn't kill Cashmere! There were two battles, and a train, and bears, and I spent the whole time thinking she was going to die because of me-"

"She wouldn't make a sound, the whole time. Even the bear, she just nudged me and pointed at it, without even a gasp."

"I couldn't stop reliving Evan, but we activated the lockdown, and we made it here in one piece!"

Finnick shakes his head in disbelief. "I have so many questions I don't know where to start. Who else was on this train? Were you driving it?"

"No, it was coming up from Four," Cashmere answers, "but we got too close to the battle, and a train is a prime target. It looked like we were going to be engaged by the enemy, so Annie and I decided to make a break for it. We were hiding in the caboose. I figured we could follow the tracks from some distance and avoid running into anyone. I remember you saying the people in Seven are very spread out. The terrain was harder than I thought, but we didn't have to go far, fortunately. We've been on foot about three, four days."

"And this lockdown." Finnick broaches his next question. "How were you the only person qualified to rig up the equipment?"

"I wasn't. I went over the steps very carefully with them before we agreed it was similar to things I'd done before."

"So how did you end up leaving the shelter?"

"I didn't want to! I had to, or everyone would have been captured! Nothing short of certain death could have made me. I certainly didn't want to drag Cashmere out into danger, but she was the only warrior not in the fight. Either I'd have to live with blaming myself for being too afraid to go above ground, or with making a stupid decision to leave the shelter."

"No, I understand why Cashmere. Why you?"

Annie pauses. "What, Cashmere and someone from Three?" She stammers. "That never even occurred to me. Where she goes, I go."

"Oh my god." Finnick crushes her in his arms. "Too brave and too loyal to be true."

"I didn't think of going with one of the other engineers either," Cashmere tells Finnick. "I'm sorry, maybe it would have been the smart way."

"No, shut up," Annie orders. "We're family. We stick together."

Finnick lets the three of them rest a night before he brings up the question of "What next?"

With food and sleep, Annie's somewhat calmer and more refreshed, but she still insists on sitting squashed between Finnick and Cashmere for this discussion. Finnick's just glad she feels safe enough with them to want them close. It's easier for him, with his shoulder pressed right up against hers.

Cashmere begins summarizing. "Rudder said that now that word was out that Annie was in Three, it's not safe for her any more. Neither is Four. He said Seven wasn't exactly safe either, but..."

"At least it's my problem now, not his," Finnick says wryly.

"I figured anywhere you were spending your time wasn't safe," Annie says with a shaky laugh. "You'll always be in the thick of it."

"Not only that, but wherever I am, that's where they'll look for you."

"East?" Annie asks, unhappy but resigned. She shivers a little. "They're keeping Katniss's sister safe, right?"

"There's that. There's another possibility I haven't brought up, but it might be time. One of my early assignments was to get foreign aid out of a country Plutarch was in contact with. I had to go, charm them, persuade them that they wanted to help us and we're a good investment, and then let other people take over maintaining the diplomatic ties. It's been paying off. They're one of the reasons we've been holding on this long against these odds.

"It's not as decadent as the Capitol, and not as poor as the districts. There's plenty of food, and most people who want jobs have them. Bad things happen to people, but the system isn't out to get you. The whole country is kind of like the Victors' Village, without the Peacekeepers."

Annie sits and thinks in silence for a long time. "You've been there?" she finally says.

"I have. I immediately marked it off in my head as a place that might be good for you."

"But you haven't been back?"

"No, and I really couldn't afford to. We wouldn't see each other until after the end of the war."

 _Or never_. No one says the words, but they hover.

"How would I make a living? It sounds very different, and I...I can't promise what kind of shape I'd be in when I got there."

"Making a new life would be hard, I won't pretend otherwise. But I'm Mags' heir, you know?"

Annie chuckles reflexively.

"I plan things well in advance. I made sure to lay some groundwork when I was there. I couldn't find anyone willing to take in a stranger who might or might not show up someday, but I got promises to help you find a family to take you in. Apparently there are people who like to take in visitors from other countries and help them adjust, so you should be able to find a place. I can give you names and information for the people who can help you."

Annie turns to Cashmere. "Why is it that there's a country I've never even heard of, and Finnick has contacts there?"

"Why are you surprised?" Cashmere asks in return.

"I guess I'm not." Annie sounds amused, then grows serious again. "So there are a million people who need a safe place with enough to eat, and I get one because I'm married to one of the leaders of the revolution?"

Finnick shrugs. "You can look at it that way, but the only reason you'd be leaving your home and family is because there's a price on your head by people who want to torture you. Because you're married to one of the leaders of the revolution here. I wouldn't feel too guilty about coming out ahead in this deal, if I were you.

"The other thing, Annie. I asked around, and everyone promised me medical care is much easier to get there."

"You mean I could get my medication again?" Annie is thoughtful. "That might really help."

"Not just that. They have doctors who are trained to help people who have a hard time leaving the house. I asked. You might be able to get back on your feet there. Thirteen hardly has anything."

"Let me think about it." Annie's voice shakes a little, but there are no real good choices.

Long and hard, the three of them hash over the options. It's not safe near the border, with all the fighting. There are places up in the mountains where people have withdrawn to be out of the fighting, now that Peacekeeper control has lightened up. Electric fences are being torn down and remote shelters built. People are even trying to live in caves rather than be found. But there are no organized shelters like what Annie's used to in Three and Four, and no guarantees that she won't be found. Or freeze or starve to death.

Getting to a safer place, though, is going to be hard and almost as risky. It's not winter yet, but it's autumn, and she'll first have to cross through the fighting in the east to District Thirteen. She can stay there, or they can help her overseas.

"I can't go with you," Finnick says, "for the same reason we can't stay together long. If you're on your own, you have a chance of disguising yourself. It's still going to be dangerous. I'll be blunt and say I can't promise you'll make it to safety alive, but I do think it's your best chance at survival. They're closing in on you here."

"It's like knowing we're sitting ducks underground and our forces are losing the battle, and if I don't go out there into the heat of the fighting, it won't be just me that dies." Not even Finnick's and Cashmere's arms around Annie can keep her from shaking. Finnick starts to cry, silently, because he knows which way she's leaning.

Annie puts her head on Cashmere's shoulder. "Would you forgive me for leaving?"

"Oh, Annie. If I can't keep you safe here, I can't keep you here."

"That's another thing," Finnick says hesitantly. "Someone's going to have to go with Annie at least as far as Thirteen. There's no reason you couldn't get on the hovercraft or ship with her, sugar."

Cashmere's eyes widen, and she looks sick. "Oh my god," she says numbly.

Annie sits up straight. She puts her hands to her mouth and starts shaking her head hard. "No. No!"

Finnick's heart is crumbling. "I don't want to break up the family, but it's slipping beyond my control. That's what war does, it breaks up families."

Annie's sobbing, biting her hands to keep from speaking.

Finnick knows what she won't let herself say. "It's killing me to say this, my angel, but I think you should go. I know you have what it takes to come back and fight, and you'd be a real asset. But I also think you've been through enough. Not that moving won't be hard, but you can make a fresh start."

"You want me to go?"

"No!" Finnick chokes. "I just want you to be safe. Not just physically, but I want you to have a better life than you've had so far. I know it's hard for you to imagine how different it could be, but I've been there, I've seen it, and I think it would be good for you. This is like me walking away from Mags because it's the right thing to do, okay? Or Annie sitting here trying not to beg you to come with her, even though she wants you with her more than anything in the world."

Annie nods, and between her sobs a strangled cry of "Please!" breaks through.

Cashmere puts her arms around her and touches her head against Annie's. "Of course I'll come, Annie, if you want me to, and Finnick thinks it's a good idea."

"But I can't tear you away from everything you know!"

"We're family, remember? We stick together."

"But so is Finnick! And he's the one-" Annie's voice chokes on that.

Finnick shakes his head despondently. "It didn't matter who had what feelings when it was all three of us. But you're better for each other. If nothing else, you have more time to give each other. You'll be safe together."

Annie's crying slowly subsides. Finnick hasn't been able to stop since he started, but he has a lot of experience keeping his voice steady through his emotions.

"We take care of each other," Annie reluctantly agrees. "You're right. But I don't want to leave you alone either, Finnick. What about Johanna Mason? I know she's got your back in a fight, but I need more than that to go on."

"She's a good friend," Finnick assures Annie. "I talk to her."

"You don't have to act around her?" Annie presses. Trust her to cut to the chase.

"Not when it's just the two of us. If you've seen us in public, we have to put on a show for her district, like Mags and I used to."

Annie hesitates. "I want to talk to her. Can I?"

Finnick thinks about it. "The longer you stay here and the more people know you're here, the harder it will be to get you out. But I'll see if I can find her on short notice. If nothing else, to get her help smuggling you over the border. She still knows this district better than I do."

"How are you so calm?" Annie cries.

"I'm acting," Finnick answers. "If I don't act, I'll never be able to let you go. I'll fall apart later, don't worry."

"Don't _worry_?!"

"Don't worry. I'll be okay. Take care of each other. Make a good life for yourselves, both of you. Promise?"

They cling to each other for a long time, then Finnick gets up to go in search of Johanna.


End file.
